How Many Miles to Babylon?
by xMiss Shizaya Michaelisx
Summary: Ciel and Sebastian should not be friends. They both share very different lives. One is a noble and one is a servant. But this hardly matters to either as their friendship grows, testing the boundaries of a conventional society in 1914. At war, they will find themselves standing together, but once again divided as officer and enlisted man. SebastianxCiel
1. So I Write And Wait

**Hello~ and welcome to mah new story! **

**This is a crossover of Jennifer Johnston's "How Many Miles to Babylon?" and Kuroshitsuji. I fell in love with "How Many Miles to Bablylon?" when we started reading it for my English class. I adored the book so I thought why not do a crossover? (That's the first thing that skipped into my wierd little mind after finishing the book) I realised that Alec is very much like Ciel and so this is what I imagined whenever we went over the story in class... Believe me, Sebastian and Ciel are never far from my thoughts... ever. This story is going to be a lot like the novel (seriously) but of course there will be a few changes here and there in relationships and so on. For those of you who like the novel and love Kuroshitsuji like I do, then I hope that you really enjoy this!**

**Sebastian is not a demon in this story and it is set during WWI. A few other Kuroshitsuji characters will be popping up along the way too.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own "How Many Miles to Babylon?" as it belongs to Jennifer Johnston and I do not own Kuroshitsuji because it belongs to the awesomeness that is Yana Tobosa.**

* * *

**How Many Miles to Babylon?**

**Kuroshitsuji / How Many Miles to Babylon?**

**Chapter I: So I Write And Wait**

**xMiss Shizaya Michaelisx**

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It all came down to this; sitting here with my soiled notebooks, blotchy pen, ink and dirtied paper at a desk which looked about ready to collapse if I put anymore pressure on it. The dulling wood was chipped with the signitures of those who have gone before me. There were not many of them, but enough to paint the small desk with history.

I write and wait.

I am committed to nothing. I love nothing and... I... I love no living person.

As I wait, I accept that I have no future, but only what you can count in hours. I wasn't entirely disturbed by that realisation as I thought I would be. In fact, it was quite welcoming.

As I sit and wait, I have only but the past to play with in my mind. I can juggle with a series of possibly inaccurate memories. So what if I get a few things wrong? They are all distant now.

As I wait, I slowly come to terms that all my hopes and dreams... there is now no possibility of seeing them brought to life.

He's gone now.

It's over for both of us.

I have not bothered communicating with either my father or my mother. They will do that for me when it's done.

Will they feel pain? My father might. It may possibly kill him... but maybe, like me, he may be better off dead. Will my mother cry? It's a question I have been asking myself for as long as I've been sitting in this creaking chair. I know my heart certainly won't bleed for her if she does.

Major Randall has not been near me, for which I am duly grateful. That cold man... he will never convert me. Not now. He will never make a man out of me, but I don't suppose he will lose much sleep over that.

Seemingly unimportant places, woodlands, lakes, memories... they are the centre of the world for tens of thousands of men right now. Those places will be their final destination, the end of the world for many, either the heroes and the cowards or the masters and the slaves.

I can only guess that it's raining outside. It's February afterall. The thick winter rain shows no mercy for the dying screams of men.

The priest comes to visit from time to time. On insistance, he shows me the gold cross he wears under his viyella vest. He takes it out with pride and allows me the apparent honour of seeing such a fine piece, not that I'm slightly interested.

"Have you faith?" he asked me yesterday when he came to visit again for the umpteenth time.

That wasn't his exact phrasing. It was more sophisticated than that and came out like he was embarrassed to ask such a question.

I shook my head slightly, not caring if I offended him.

"No?" he questioned. His eyes had widened behind his spectacles.

I nodded my head, "I'm not exactly what you call one who is among the faithful."

There had been something in his yellow bloodshot eyes. Pity perhaps? When I saw it, I wanted to laugh. I refrained from doing so.

"I don't believe faith can comfort the living, and it seems to me that it is irrelevant for the dead." My throat was dry, coarse. I tried clearing it which only made things worse. I took a sip of the slightly browned water in the glass that sat by the now shabby notebooks. I didn't take any notice of the colour or the dirt that was obviously in the water. It was of unimportance now.

"But you're alive." he noted, looking a little confused.

I wanted so desperately to roll my eyes at this dense creature before me, "Technically."

The atmosphere grew uncomfortable. He pushed the cross back in over his shirt and soon left after conveniently excusing himself.

Personally I was glad he did. I was never one to listen to the religious types preach their inane prattle. Quite frankly, it bored me half to death...

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**And that's it for chapter one! Chapters will vary in length as I am following sections to keep with the book.**

**I have another story for Kuroshitsuji crossed over with Beauty and the Beast. You can find it on my profile. It's called "Show Me You Love Me, Forever" Go take a look! **

**Please review and let me know what you think xD**


	2. Violin And Piano Lessons

**Enjoyed chapter 1? Good! Because here is chapter 2~!**

**Okay so this is where the flashback begins.**

**And I think it's time to introduce our favorite butler *drum roll* Sebastian!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own "How Many Miles to Babylon?" or Kuroshitsuji.**

**Enjoy you Sebby addicts!**

* * *

**How Many Miles to Babylon?**

**Kuroshitsuji / How Many Miles to Babylon?**

**Chapter II: Violin And Piano Lessons**

**Miss Shizaya Michaelisx**

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As I child I think it's fair to say that I had a relatively happy childhood. But nearing the end of it, I was alone. I'm not going to make any excuses for myself. I'm only stating the fact. The only real company I had was Elizabeth's, my loud, slightly obnoxious cousin. She was the only other child I played with. Sometimes, she and aunt Francis would come to visit from time to time. But other than that, I was completely on my own. I was isolated from children of my own age by the barriers of class and education. The only other children nearby were of the workers who worked either on the land or as a servant in the house. Even then, there were only two children to speak of. Neither my father or mother allowed me to speak to these children. I was forbidden to do so. They were "of the lower class" and not to be spoken to.

When I was very young, I was often sick. I suffered from asthma and still do to this day, but it's not as bad as back then. My parents often didn't allow me outside because of it. Most days, I would be taken to bed and remain there alone for the entirety of an illness that happened to plague me at some point or another.

Education was seen as an important factor to both of my parents, especially my father, as I would become the head of the house and heir to the Funtom Company when he passed on. A series of ladies taught me a series of forgettable subjects and at the magical age of ten, I was handed over to a curate who, probably to supplement his tiny income, spent several painstaking hours each day teaching me the history of Britian, Mathamatics, English literature, French grammer, and of course Latin. Latin was certainly his subject and the way his eyes would light up when the moment arrived for us to take out our numerous Latin books which we translated together... Oh how I would take pride and sick joy out of watching him maliciously when I fumbled and stumbled over my words on purpose and seeing the pleasure in his eyes visibly disintegrate. No one said I was an angel when I was younger.

I remember his smell. He smelt like mint. Sometimes, I would catch him prying two white, chapped fingers into the breast pocket of his dark waistcoat and pull out two little sweet mints which he would then slip into his mouth as if he were performing some minor criminal act. He never offered me one, and always he would jump out of his skin when he saw that I was watching him.

I can't forget the piano and violin teacher who would come out from London on the train once a week. I don't exactly remember much about him. He was completely ineffective as both a violin and piano teacher which was the reason for his going. On a typical day after a passable lesson of me attempting to play Bach's 'Chaconne' in 'D' minor, we would move on to the piano lesson, which always left me as clueless as when I first started to "play" the piano. My mother would stride into the drawing-room near the end of each lesson, her skirts fanning out behind her with each step, and sigh restlessly and fret at my lack of progress in the piano department. She would sit herself elegantly on the blue and white and gold-lined victorian fainting couch and drum her fingers against the fabric while studying us. He was already a very nervous man, and her presence seemed to treble that. He would become almost manic with nervousness while she was in the room. He would tremble. He tried to hide it, but I would see his hands shake and when he caught my staring, he would put them in his trouser pockets with a twitch of his lids. Sometimes, he would pick distractedly at hardened food on his ever-dirtying grey jacket as I played some sort of melody which would always ultimately fail in the end. The drawing-room would smell of fresh apples and of the white roses which my mother would bring in from the garden. The white grand piano would reflect the light coming in from the crisp white-paned bay windows. The drawing-room was always bright. My mother had a fondness for white and victorian furniture. The house was specked with them. And as mother insisted, every room, except my father's study, consisted of pale blue, white and gold-lined furniture, even the piano. Everything had to be light, much to my father's annoyance.

Oh how the music teacher was so out of place.

He approached my mother at a rather slow pace, probably trying to delay the inevitable. I regret that he looked amost like a speck of dust travelling across the white marble floor in his fading grey suit. I believe now that was in summer because the smell of the roses and his words are all mixed together in my mind.

"Ah yes." he started, and I shut my eyes tightly. I could hear the nerves in his voice already, "The little fellow is uh... he's coming on nicely. Yes. You do... you do notice that uh... there's been...progress... I feel."

There was silence from my mother. I guess that her eyes had wandered over to my still form and then back to him.

"I do hope that you... are satisfied." he stuttered out eventually, leaning low over her with his dull blue eyes twitching like they normally would. I could hear his fingers tear at the crusty stains on his jacket. I remember thinking that if he kept picking at it, a hole would form.

A half-hearted laugh escaped my mother's lips. I internally cringed for the lost teacher. Even I could hear the falseness in it, "Progress..." The word rolled off her tongue like a wave of sarcasm, "Of a kind, I suppose."

My mother waved him away with her delicate little hand. I sat at the piano, not having moved an inch.

My mother was a wonderful woman. She truly was... Or so I thought. I knew that when it came to anything concerning me or my education, she could become as brutal as any man could.

"Such a great deal of your talent, Mrs. Phantomhive, has rubbed off on the uh... the... the little lad."

I began to play a basic arpeggio softly when my mother motioned her hand towards the door, "Your train. I mean, you mustn't miss..."

"Oh no, no, no. Of course not. So..." He trailed off and glanced around the room, as if memorising it for his more darker days, "I'll just be on my way." he attempted to crack a smile but gave up as soon as the thought came into his head, "Trains... they... uh... they wait for no man."

He bowed once again to my mother who smiled sweetly back at him, but her eyes passed him by as if he were not there. He then turned to me.

"And you, young lad, practice. Yes. Till next Tuesday."

He then moved towards the door. I watched him from my place on the piano stool while my mother averted her eyes towards the roses. I don't know why but... actually, no. I do know why. I know why I got up from the piano and followed the poor man out of the room. I had suddenly felt some sort of emotion towards him. Sympathy perhaps. I followed him through the bright back hall and out to the foyer. Stopping at the front door, he turned around and gave my shoulders a gentle squeeze.

"Well... what a lucky little fellow you are to have such a... beautiful mother."

"Do you have a coat?" I asked, looking up at him. I was only very small when I was young. I wrapped my tiny fingers around the door-knob and turned my hand, opening the door and letting in a slight breeze from outside. Even though it was summer, it wasn't always warm.

"A coat?" He let out a small defeated laugh, "Ah no coat, lad." he replied with a gentle smile. There was something in his eyes, "I don't feel the cold."

A lie. He's probably never felt warm in his life.

He stepped out bravely into the chill of the afternoon and down the steps.

When I got back to the drawing-room, father was there, talking with mother. I sidled up the crack in the doorway and listened.

"Vincent, he must go." she urged. I could hear her skirt swishing as she moved, "I know this will affect him but we have no choice."

"My dear Rachel, he-"

"He cannot teach Ciel." she said, cutting him off, which I had never heard her do before, "I do sort of see progress in Ciel's violin skills... but his piano skills? I'm afraid that he has not come on. Ciel needs to learn while he's still young."

"I agree. But... Rachel, what am I to say?" came my father's slightly stressed reply.

I heard her release an impatient sigh.

My mother was a kind woman, or so I thought. At the time, I believed it had killed her to ask my father to send the poor teacher away knowing his financial circumstance.

"Vincent, just... just make up an excuse. Anything. His skills as a teacher... they are appalling."

"I can hardly say that." my father answered, his chuckle reveberating throughout the room.

"Honestly, he's like someone who has been swallowed up by life and spat back out again."

A window sighed open.

"I will teach Ciel myself. That way I will get to spend more time with him." I thought I could hear the smile behind her words.

I had smiled too, but felt sorry for my poor music teacher who never appeared again.

My mother then became my violin and piano teacher and I will admit that my skills at both instruments came on tremendously, which surprised me because all that I was really good at was reading literature.

When I was around twelve years old, my father brought up the question of me going to a proper school. Weston College to be exact. The question arose suddenly, and I mean it arose and nothing came out of it as far as I was aware.

That day when he brought up the idea, lunch was nearly over. I had of course been playing with my left-over food that was on plate.

"Ciel, how would you like to go to school?" my father asked me. It had taken me completely by surprise, but my mother answered for me.

"Vincent." she said calmly, but I heard the warning in it.

My father smiled briefly down the table at her, but with the table as long as it was, I doubted it reached her.

"What do you think?" he asked again, turning his attention back to me and giving me a warm smile.

"I hadn't really thought about it, father." I admitted.

"Well, you should." he replied, reaching out a hand and tousling my hair playfully with a laugh. At the dining table, I often sat beside father while my mother sat opposite him down the other end, "When I was your age, I would have been in Weston College just starting off."

"Mr. Bingham is more than adequate." my mother stated from her place opposite him.

"I believe Weston College would provide a much better education than Mr. Bingham." he reiterated.

"Vincent, our son is delicate. We can't put his health at risk."

"He is only delicate in your eyes, my love. I don't see any signs of it now. Why look, he has just eaten a most remarkable lunch... or most of it."

"Dr. Simmons..."

"Dr. Simmons is an idiot."

"Vincent..."

"Rachel, you know perfectly well that Dr. Simmons will say anything you want him to say."

I believed that from the look in his eyes and the way he had cursed under his breath, he had said too much and regretted it immediately. I couldn't stop myself from glancing at my mother nervously. Her eyes had widened, and she looked hurt. Have I mentioned that my mother was an extremely good actress?

"That's absurd." she whispered with a slight sneer.

I decided to train my eyes on the view outside the window and kept my mouth firmly shut.

"Vincent, I thought we agreed on this a long time ago. You remember, don't you? When he had pneumonia..."

"That was a long time ago. The situation has changed now. He's much stronger."

I could feel my mother's intense gaze on me as soon as he said that. After a few moments, she looked away and placed a piece of apple in her mouth.

"What if that happens again when he's at that place?" she asked him when she had finished eating, "What then?"

I must have moved or breathed too deeply because my father's eyes fell on me.

"Ciel, you are excused."

"Thank you, father."

I got down from my chair and all but rushed to escape the dining room.

However, I felt a pair of worried maroon red eyes on my back as I left.

Sebastian was always around. I guess you could have called him my father's 'personal servant' and head butler. He followed my father around like a puppy and spoke only when spoken to. My father trusted him with everything; papers, documents, the lot. When working over documents and letters, my father often conversed with Sebastian, who would stand to attention by the dark desk, to pass the time and make work more interesting.

Sometimes, he could be seen in the stable-yard, fawning over the black cat that roamed the gardens. Often in his spare time, I would see him sit under the willow tree by the lake and pet the creature while cooing at it. I never did understand his obsession with cats. I never got close to the black furball as it often hissed when I tried, plus I was allergic to it.

My father had held him in high regard, so he got longer breaks than the other servants and was allowed access to the gardens any time he wished. He also had a fondness for horses. I couldn't even begin to understand why. They were my worst enemy. When I was younger, around ten or eleven, I had been forced to learn how to horse ride. Sebastian had been entrusted with teaching me. I never did forgive him for that. He knew full well that I had been nervous of that horse and the height and yet he just had to slap the horse's backside to get it going. I had hoped that the glare I had sent him wounded him a little.

All he did was laugh right back at me.

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**Yay! I finally updated! I hope you all enjoyed this :) Please leave a review and let me know what you think xD**


	3. The Lake

**Chapter 3~!**

**Okay so I'll let you all know now that I won't be updating again until I get at least some reviews on this chapter. I know there are many reading this story but if I'm not given feedback, how am I supposed to know if what I'm typing is any good? It only takes a minute or so to tell me what you think. **

**Thank you to msbubblezpopz and Bocchan832 for reviewing. You guys rock!**

**Disclaimer: I own neither "How Many Miles to Babylon?" or Kuroshitsuji.**

* * *

**How Many Miles to Babylon?**

**Kuroshitsuji / How Many Miles to Babylon?**

**Chapter III: The Lake**

**Miss Shizaya Michaelisx**

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Sebastian was always there. He was everywhere. Or at least, that's what I imagined.

Even though he was highly thought of as a reliable servant by my father, he was still just that; a servant and seven years my senior. My mother's eyes would flash whenever I looked over at him when we all gathered in the lounge for some afternoon tea. He would stand devotedly behind my father's place in his armchair, who would read his newspaper with slight interest. My mother would often knit, stitch or recite a few quotes from poems that seemed to spur her curiouslty at the time. Most of these poems were the work of Edgar Allen Poe. She kept a large hardback book of his works on the polished table that sat in the middle of the room between us. Her favorite poem by the master poet was "Annabel Lee". She would often read it to me at night, when I was younger, when I was taken to bed and could not fall asleep.

_Poor beautiful Annabel Lee who lies in waiting in her tomb by the sea_, my mother would coo at me in an attempt to send me to sleep. It was not exactly a comforting notion for a six year old who already suffered with nightmares.

I myself, would sit on the couch opposite my father and stare idly past him out the window. This was what it was like in my parent's company when I was around thirteen or fourteen years old. I was a hard child, or teenager at this point, to entertain. My mother tried. My father at this point had given up, but not entirely. He attempted, at least. Our conversations always followed the same pattern. They normally consisted of a few sentences, normally from himself. I didn't like to talk much. Because of this, I was normally left up to my own devices.

Visits from my cousin and aunt Francis kept me occupied and my heart racing in fear. Elizabeth would often inisist on visiting as frequently as possible. They did not live too far away. They both usually visited together on Saturday and stayed the night till Sunday, but Elizabeth would often make her own way to my home without her mother knowing. She never learned from her mistakes and soon enough, she was visiting every third day. My aunt Francis of course, found some excuse to blame her daughter's behaviour all on me when she eventually found out. My parent's never said a word, but merely laughed when Elizabeth showed up at the front door every now and then.

During her visits, we would often walk together in the gardens and stroll by the lake. Those memories are quite vague. I never cared much for physical exertion, let alone walking. To put it truthfully, she would drag me along with her.

I remember a particularly hot summer. I may have been fourteen or older. I can't quite remember. The memory is a little blurred in my mind. Elizabeth and I had just enjoyed some pink lemon juice, curtesy of our chef, Bardroy, who wasn't much good at making anything. But his pink lemon juice was 'Elizabeth approved'. And so we left to journey on our little adventure once again. She would wrap her arm delicately around mine and smile at me from time to time. Unfortunately, she was a little taller than myself so her eyes would look down slightly to meet my own.

When we made it back to the house, my mother wished to speak to her privately. I never could understand how women found pleasure in gossiping amongst themselves. I could tell from her expression that Elizabeth was pleased to go indoors. My mother insisted that I do the same, but I realised that I should at least enjoy the weather while it was still nice.

The flowers in the garden were in full bloom and bees buzzed around sipping up the nectar from each. The grass was a luscious shade of healthy green and cropped to perfection. When we were children, myself and Elizabeth would chase one another around the fountain and laugh if we got sprayed by water spurting from the tip of the beautiful water feature. Apple trees in the orchard bore tasty fruit which my mother would pick to accompany her breakfast, lunch and desert.

I continued along the pebbled path towards the stable-yard that was a little ways from the main house. The smell was astounding and I wrinkled my nose as it wafted towards me. That was another reason why I hated farm animals, not just horses. They stunk and you could smell them a mile off. Even though I was not fond of horses, my father insisted that I have my own, even though I had advised him not to waste good money on a horse that I would never use. To get to the stable-yard, you have to pass the large fields were the horses grazed, of which there were many. I caught sight of my Friesian stallion gallivanting with a mere of the same breed. I remember thinking, 'Not another one.' as I passed them by. We already had two foals. We didn't need another one.

Hearing a clatter of a rake against the ground coming from my horse's stable, I wandered over despite myself, and the smell. I poked my head around the doorway and was greeted with a view I did not expect.

Sebastian stood bent over while raking at the hay on the ground of the stable. It was stuffy inside the rather spacious room and he wiped at his forhead to rid himself of the gleam of sweat that had formed there. His once-white shirt hung on the hook by the door and he continuously tucked his long bangs of raven black hair behind his ears as it kept falling in front of his eyes whenever he proceeded to rake at the hay.

Not wanting to disturb him, I tried my best to tip-toe back out of the stable and when I heard my name being called behind me, I cussed under my breath.

"Ciel, sir. Is anything the matter?" he called after me.

I turned back on my heels and faced him. He was breathing deeply through his mouth and his face and pale chest were gleaming with sweat from the exertion of the hard work he had been doing. His trousers and shoes were ruined.

I shook my head a little too eagerly, "No. Nothing's... nothing's wrong."

He stood staring at me as if calculating something in his head. I attempted a smile rather awkwardly. There was something about Sebastian that always made me nervous.

He was as aware of me as I was of him. It had always been like that.

Before I could filter my thoughts on what I was going to say to relieve the awkward atmosphere, I blurted out the one thing I had chanted in my mind not to say.

"Do you want any help, Sebastian?"

Damn.

His head pulled back a little and he outright stared me up and down. The edges of his pink lips curled upwards and an amused gleam shone bright in his maroon eyes.

"You wish to help me, sir?" he ask a little incredulously.

I glowered at him, "Is there anyone else here by the name of Sebastian?"

He smirked and barked a laugh and I soon cracked a smile. This was what it was always like. Yes he made me nervous, for reasons I hadn't known back then, but soon that would just fade away and I could be me in his company, not the reclusive Ciel my parents knew.

He stared at my clothes then, "I don't think they are suitable." he noted, pointing at my black and blue attire. I glanced down and huffed. He was right. I knew I would probably pass out if I worked in them. I already felt extremely claustrophobic as it was.

"But," he began, a smirk tugging at his lips, "only help me if you are willing to get dirty."

For some reason, I blushed furiously at that comment.

I curled my lip at him and slipped my jacket off my shoulders and hung it over the bottom half of the stable door. I hung my crevat atop my jacket and rolled up my sleeves.

To be honest, after only fifteen minutes of actual work, I was spent. Throwing in the towel, I simply rested against the wall and watched him work. The inside hairs of my fringe were plastered to my forehead. I felt like I was in an oven.

"How do you do it?" I asked him a little breathlessly as he laid down fresh hay on the ground from the wheelbarrow.

"How do I do what?" he asked, looking over at me through his bangs.

"All of this." I answered, looking around the freshly cleaned stable, "I'm tired out only after fifteen minutes of work."

"I'm not sure that could have been classed as work." he teased with a smile.

It was soon evening time and the sun was slowly beginning to fall from the sky. However, it was still warm and still quite light.

"Come on."

I followed him out of the stable and down the path, side by side. I didn't really take note of where we were going, but I knew it wasn't towards the house.

Soon we stopped at the bank of the lake which lay slightly below and to the south of the mansion house.

"Well, come on then." he whispered close to my ear as he began to strip himself of his shirt and dirty trousers but luckily kept his underwear on.

I could only stare wide-eyed back at him in horror and slight curiousity, of which I was ashamed.

He walked away from the bank a few feet before turning on his heels and making a running jump into the lake. The water splashed up into my face and I instantly wiped my cheeks clean.

He broke the surface of the water and shook out his hair like a dog. The water rippled around him and glimmered.

I was still fully clothed and had no intention of changing that.

"Aren't you getting in?" he asked a little disappointedly.

"Are you mad?" I shot back.

"Not entirely."

Even though I was a teenager, I was still quite small and particularly fragile, of which he used to mock me endlessly.

He started to swim towards me and I waited until he was waist-deep in water just below me before speaking.

"I don't-"

"There's plenty of room for both of us." he pointed out, cutting me off with a gentle smile, "Please join me." he urged.

I stared at him for quite some time before eyeing the vast, inviting lake. I took a moment to ponder. I knew that mother would probably confine me to my room for the next century, not only for swimming in the lake, but also for spending time with a servant.

But as I watched him dive under the water and surface about twenty yards out, I couldn't find it in me to really care what she did. Besides, I was completely filthy.

I took off my clothes, except for my underwear, and slid down the grass verge and into the water. Surprisingly, it wasn't as chilly as I thought it would be. In fact, it was quite warm.

I had gone swimming in that lake once or twice before on my own when it had been a hot day. My mother hadn't found out about either time. It was certainly more fun swimming with someone else. I wasn't a fool though. I knew not to stay in too long. He was quite far out in the lake while I stayed relatively close to the bank. I waved over at him, specks of water flying off my arm, and when I caught his attention, I pointed to the bank to let him know I was getting out. I clambered up on to the grass bank and wiped at my arms to get rid of the excess water. He quickly followed my example and got out himself. We both shook out our hair and I couldn't help but stop and stare in awe. He was like some godly being in all his accursed glory.

There was a slight breeze that hit my back. I involuntarily shivered but began to laugh.

"I have your clothes." I snickered at him, "But I've hidden them."

He stared back at me as if not fully believing his eyes.

The gloomy Phantomhive brat was actually laughing.

"Where?" he wondered, looking mischevious himself as he eyed the surrounding area.

"I'm not telling you." I teased, slowly slithering away step by step.

"Oh I'll make you." he promised with a glint in his eyes. He began taking steps forward towards me like a predator.

"Oh as if!" I shot back at him with a wicked grin.

"You'll be sorry you said that."

I merely laughed in his face.

What I didn't expect, however, was for him to grab hold of my arm and twist it so that I would then have to turn my torso so that my chest was against the willow tree he was so fond of.

"I caught you."

"Ah..." I gasped as he tightened his hold, "Pax!"

"Pax?"

"Peace. I give in. You win this round, shrude demon. I am your humble slave."

"I knew you'd give in easily." he laughed breathlessly in against my neck.

He still hadn't let go.

"Slave?" he whispered. His breath ghosted just below my earlobe.

"What?" I hissed back.

"Where are my clothes?" he asked, his nose now pressed against my hair. He had pressed himself against my back to force me closer to the rough bark of the willow tree.

"Under those bushes, there." I answered, trying to look to my right to show him where I meant.

"You get them, slave."

He released me and I stumbled back from the tree and into his chest. He placed his hands on my shoulders and steadied me.

"One would think you're drunk." he teased, squeezing my shoulders gently.

"Ha. Ha." I sneered back at him over my shoulder and went to fetch him his clothes.

I tossed them over to him and by that time, my skin had dried but my hair was still fairly damp. We put on our dirtied clothes, which I'll admit was counterproductive, and I fell back on to the grass and stared up at the sky and the disappearing sun, of which I was forbidden to do. Mother had told me that it could cause blindness, madness, sunstroke and things called brain tumours.

He sat down beside me and sighed contently.

"My name is Sebastian Michaelis." he said suddenly, holding out his hand for me to shake.

I stared at him like he had grown three heads but soon caught on.

I smiled up at him, "Ciel. Ciel Phantomhive." I greeted him and shook his hand firmly.

"Really?" he asked, feigning shock. His eyes lit up at our little game.

"Really really." I replied with smile.

"I thought it was Slave." he grinned, taking a hold of my earlobe and pinching it between his forefinger and thumb.

"You wish." I retorted, pulling his hand away from my ear and pushing it back into his lap.

"I think I'll call you Ciel." he decided finally after a minute of silence.

"And I'll call you Sebastian. Deal?"

He nodded in agreement and held out his pale, white hand towards me. I clasped it as he fell elegantly back against the grass and we both lay looking up at the forbidden sun until it disappeared completely out of sight.

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**This story is so much fun to write! I hope you guys enjoyed but please review if you want to see a chapter 4! Also, check out my other Kuroshitsuji stories on my profile. Thanks guys! xD**


	4. I Had A Friend

**Chapter 4 is here you perverted fiends! **

**Thank you to those of you have reviewed so far. It's greatly appreciated :) **

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**Disclaimer: I don't own "How Many Miles To Babylon?" or Kuroshitsuji. I make no money from this. I think it's pretty obvious that I'm not as awesome as Yana Tobosa... **

**Enjoy!**

* * *

**How Many Miles to Babylon?**

**Kuroshitsuji / How Many Miles to Babylon?**

**Chapter IV: I had a friend**

**xMiss Shizaya Michaelisx**

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I had a friend.

No one knew of it... Of us.

He was a private and secret friend.

During the day, he would go about his duties in the house, whether it was preparing breakfast, lunch and dinner or simply fulfilling my father's wishes. Waking up in the mornings had become less of a tedious chore since our little alliance down by the lake. It was nice to be woken up by a friend rather than a servant. I would often catch a glimpse of him walking about the various hallways on some task or another. In the evenings, we would meet up, either by the lake or up on the hill to the side of the house which lay hidden by a series of stunning red maple trees.

"All I ever seem to do in the lessons is boring Latin. I'm sick of it." I groaned over at him one day as I lay on the grass while he sat back against the trunk of one of the maple trees during his break.

"Ego te putabam fruebatur eam?"

"What gave you that idea?" I asked him incredulously, turning my head at an awkward angle to look back at him by the tree. I soon learned that Sebastian was quite versed in Latin. He never explained how though, nor did I get much of a chance to ask him, "Of course I don't enjoy it." I had retorted, turning my head back to its original position and stared up at the darkening sky, "I've heard enough about Ceasar's boring Gallic wars to last me a lifetime."

The ground had been a little moist unfortunately. It had rained the night before but it hadn't been sunny enough during the day to dry the ground completely. I knew my back was wet because I could feel the damp through my clothes, sending a small chill down my spine. Even so, I didn't feel compelled to move.

The breeze rattled the leaves and I closed my eyes and listened, content to simply lie there and do nothing.

When we fought he always won, though as time went on I became a more practical fighter than I had been before, depsite my size. I had picked up some of his tricks and he would laugh delightedly when I used them against him.

At that time, I was still learning to horse ride. It was like a tiny splinter buried deep in my skin that I couldn't ignore, nor rid myself of. Mother insisted that I learn the "art" of horse riding. Father only agreed because it was necessary for the hunts. Sebastian had been a pro at the sport. His skills were impeccable, along with his style. He would sigh loudly and rebuke me when I did something wrong or praise me strongly when I did something right, which wasn't often.

My horse, Eloy, seemed to glide with a certain spectacular radiance while Sebastian was atop him demonstrating different styles and such. He would make me watch from just outside the arena while he walked, cantered, galloped and jumped on the, I must admit, beautiful creature.

Thinking back on it all, I'll admit that it seemed idyllic. I'm sure we had our ugly moments, as well as the beautiful ones. It was a real friendship, no matter how strange it was. We recognised that there were two sides to it. We both stood up for each other and we both knew of the good and bad. If we didn't, then I wouldn't be sitting here writing this.

"I think I'll be leaving your father's service soon."

We were lying on top of a small hill, five minutes away from the house, watching the field below us being ploughed. A man, presumably a farmer, stood behind while the horse pulled the plough. It's head drooped forward, completely relaxed and it's white feathered hooves never lost their rhythm.

I believe that I had remained frozen for some time, and so oddly conscious of the world around me. I could hear and feel everything. But I dared not move, in fear of somehow shattering to the ground in pieces.

"Why?"

That was all I could manage to ask him.

"What do you mean 'why?'. I have to."

I turned my eyes from the farmer to Sebastian.

"But..." I sucked in a breath, "Why do you have to?"

I could feel my heart hammering in my chest. It was so loud in my ears that I was afraid I wouldn't hear his answer.

"I can't remain in the Phantomhive service forever."

"Why ever not?"

"My mother wants me to join the army."

I had just turned fifteen when he told me this. He was twenty-one, nearing twenty-two.

"She wants me to follow in my father's footsteps." he moved his legs so they were splayed out in front of him on the grass, "Maybe then she will recieve two envelopes instead of just one."

At the time, I wasn't sure what he meant by envelopes arriving to his mother. I know now.

"To be perfectly honest though," he said, leaning back on his elbows and glancing up at the sun, "I don't believe I am cut out to be a soldier. Perhaps I love myself too much."

I rolled my eyes at him. As if that wasn't obvious already.

Inside, I felt the need to say something, to thwart his decision.

"Sebastian..."

"Yes?"

His head had rolled back and his dark hair blew gently in the light breeze.

"Why don't you just stay?" I sounded more desperate than I wanted to, "You like it here, right?"

He didn't answer me.

"You'd have that black cat... and the horses. They'd all be here. You'd like that that, wouldn't you?"

A small breathless laugh escaped his lip and he shook his head gently.

I felt a small pang in my chest, like my heart was sinking.

"I'd like to, but..."

"But what?" I asked, shuffling from the grass and sitting up beside him, "It sounds like a great idea to me."

"Well, for one thing we wouldn't be able to remain friends any more."

There was loud noise coming from the field and I glanced over to see the horse quickening its pace. I then fell back on my backside and stared at Sebastian intently, "That won't happen."

"Of course it would." he looked back at me as if I were mentally stupid, "I'd be working for you. That changes everything."

"Not for me, you blithering idiot."

"Your father... you, and even your mother. You're all one. There's no way they would let us be friends if I stayed. They are already suspiscious as it is, especially your mother."

"I don't think my father would care much."

Maybe he wouldn't, but mother would. She'd fret that he would be a distraction to my duties. Sebastian was right about her at least. She would disappove immensely.

"They would care." he said finally after a few minutes silence with a small nod of his head, "My mother would too. One is as bad as the other."

I turned over and lay on my back, looking up at the pale sky. Clouds edged towards the sun slowly. It looked like it would rain soon.

The farmer must have realised too and soon he had vanished, along with his horse and plough.

"There's no need for you to join the army."

He didn't say anything.

"Think about it. Like you said, you're not cut out to be a soldier."

Again, nothing.

"You could stay here. We could have a great time, you and I. We really could. What do you say?"

He began to laugh, but I don't believe he was laughing because he found me humorous. There was something in his voice, and his eyes had shrouded over sadly, "Ciel, you're a good one for thinking things will be easy."

"Why shouldn't they be?"

He sighed.

"You know why."

_Why can't you speak plainly?_

"It's a good idea though, right?"

"Yes it is." he smiled over at me but it never touched his eyes, "It's an idea. That's all it will ever be."

I could feel frustration slowly set in.

"But you want that, don't you? To stay here..."

"I'd love that."

I couldn't help but soar at his words. He grinned over at me, that quirky grin that I knew all too well. He was undoubtedly wiser than I.

He remained in my father's service for another few months before he left suddenly. He never mentioned to me that he was leaving. He just disappeared from the house and when I hadn't seen him for three days, I grew suspiscious and when I peeked around the servants quarters, his belongings were gone. It was difficult to approach my father. He had not said a word to me and so I had a hard time trying to ask him where Sebastian had gone without actually asking him straight out.

"That butler," I had started nervously when in my father's presence, "Perhaps you could get him to make me a parfait?"

I glanced over at my father in his desk. He had some sort of document in his right hand and his head rested in his left hand. He looked bored out of his mind.

"Father?"

He looked up at me then, "Yes, Ciel?"

"That black-haired servant... what's his name? Eh... Sebastian, was it?" I started again. I didn't half sound like I was bluffing, but it was too late to stop, "Maybe you could call on him to make me a parfait, or some sort of dessert. I'm quite hungry."

"You just ate lunch." he stated bluntly.

I tried not to shut my eyes in embarrassment, "I'd... I'd still like some."

"Well he's gone. I'll call on Meyrin to get you something from the kitchen."

He's gone.

That was it.

And so as time went on, I finally began to grow. But other than that, my life didn't change, except for Sebastian's absence. The days seemed endless and mashed together. I was so unbelievably bored and all I could really do to entertain myself was either read or walk around aimlessly and sit against the willow tree by the lake. Elizabeth's visits didn't help. I began to dislike them tremendously.

Another less-experienced man took Sebastian's place. I would eye him with contempt. He, much like my old violin and piano teacher, was sometimes incapable of performing duties which Sebastian would have breezed through. I would laugh when he would make minor mistakes and I'd make sure he'd hear me. My father's eyes would flash in warning but I never took any heed of them. I recieved plenty of warnings, but nothing came of them. My father knew aswell that no one could truly replace Sebastian.

It wasn't until maybe a year and a few months later before I saw him again. In that year and few months I had grown a lot taller and stronger. He hadn't changed, except he had taken up smoking, a habit he said he would never submit to. He was still pale as a sheet and his eyes still that odd prominant red. His hair was still styled perfectly and as glossy and black as a raven's feathers. However, the skin under his eyes was much darker. I wasn't sure if that was due to lack of sleep or the cigarettes, or maybe both. But for some unknown reason, it was a good look on him. He still looked much like a god, but rather, a more darker, sinister, mysterious god.

"You disappeared." I had retorted when I found my words. I didn't look him in the eye. Instead, I looked superficially out over the green fields, anywhere but him. I had come across him on my travels. He was lying down in our spot on the small hill and I had staggered back a few steps when I saw him sleeping peacefully on the grass. I had blinked so much that I begun to feel dizzy.

It was really him.

"Yes."

_Yes._

I felt like wringing his neck.

"And?" I shot at him.

"And what? I went to work for a farmer who lives near my family home. My mother insisted."

It was like he was using his mother as an excuse to make his disappearance okay.

I clenched my teeth.

"You never said anything to me."

He looked like he was about to say something, but thought better of it.

"Why are you here?" I demanded, glaring at him as he leaned back against one of the maple trees.

"To be reinstated."

It took me a few seconds to realise what he meant.

My eyes shot over to his, "Are you serious?"

My heart was thumping loudly in my ears.

"Yes. I've already spoken to your father. I start tomorrow. Apparently, my presence has been sorely missed." he sighed with a small smile. His eyes seemed to look through me and in to the very depths of my being, "Your father wishes for me back also. He said the young man he had taken on to replace me had been a little below par." he added with a knowing smirk.

I averted my eyes quickly and stared down at his polished shoes, feeling my cheeks heat up each millisecond that passed. I just hoped that my hair was long enough to cover them. It wasn't.

"Sit down."

I obeyed.

"Have a drink of this." he said, handing me over a small bottle that he had pulled out from his pocket.

"What is it?"

I was always cautious.

He rolled his eyes at me and thrusted the bottle in my hand, "What do you think it is?"

I shrugged my shoulders and began to twist the cap.

He laughed, "Just drink it. We'll celebrate the birth of that new foal."

"How do you know about that?" I asked him as I took a sniff of the liquid suspiciously and made a face as the smell hit my nose.

"I saw it quickly while I was passing through. Have a drink to celebrate it."

"It's not champagne." I stated bluntly and lifted my other hand so I could begin to twist the cap back on when his own hand flew up and stopped me.

"We'll call it champagne, just on this occasion, if it will make you happy. Get on with it."

I reluctantly put the bottle to my mouth and took a small sip of the liquid. Within seconds, my eyes began to tear up as it rushed down my throat, scorching me.

Through my tears, I could see that his reaction was the same when he took a drink.

I didn't feel as much of a fool then.

I can safely say that that was my first and best experience of alcohol. He didn't let me to have too much though but allowed me the occasional sip here and there. Before going home, I remember that we fell asleep under the willow tree after our walk through the woods. He had leaned himself back against the trunk of the tree while I lay by his side with my head resting on his thigh. His fingers had run through my hair, lulling me to sleep...

He _had_ been missed. Sorely missed.

I don't think I had ever felt so relieved as when I saw that he had returned.

I had my friend back and I could only hope that he was going to stay by my side and never leave again.

Even in sleep his fingers continued to stroke my hair tenderly.

He admitted himself, however slightly slurred, that he still saw me as the fragile boy he knew from over a year ago.

And yet even in sleep, he was still conscious of being careful with me, like I was the most precious thing on the earth to him.

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**And that's it for chapter 4! I'm hoping to update this story frequently. I have been updating every few days which is not bad going, for me at least. Please review and let me know what you think because I truly appreciate feedback and try take it on board as best as I can. Thank you so much for reading and I hope you all enjoyed xD**


	5. It Was Discovered

**Chapter 5 has arrived~!**

**Thank you to every single one of you who have reviewed, favorited and followed so far! You're all awesome and inspire me to update quickly without getting distracted (seriously, a speck of dust could distract me from typing) so thank you very much for your lovely reviews on this story. I've noticed that many of you have mentioned that you have not read the original story which is kinda cool because you're being told it in "Kuroshitsuji style". But seriously, I would suggest that you read the book or try to find it online because I've never read something so vivid and sad in my life. This is one of the very few "sad" novels I've read that has actually brought me to tears upon finishing it.**

**Disclaimer: I own neither "How Many Miles to Babylon?" nor Kuroshitsuji. I make no money from this.**

**Enjoy you little munchkins!**

* * *

**How Many Miles to Babylon?**

**Kuroshitsuji / How Many Miles to Babylon?**

**Chapter V: It Was Discovered**

**xMiss Shizaya Michaelisx**

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As I write and wait, memories seem to disperse from a certain dormant part of my mind that I was unaware of. An odd comparison, but they remind me of unmerciful weeds striving and overtaking my thoughts, like an infection.

"What will you do with it all?"

There were no leaves on the trees and from where I was standing, from the chimney connected to the drawing-room, I could see a stream of smoke rise up bravely into the greying sky a good distance away. We were in the arena, just having finished a pitiable lesson, on my part, of me attempting to horse ride. After only an hour of the torture, I was heaving to catch my breath while we walked Eloy back to his stable.

The weather had turned for the worst. It was cold. My body was only warm due to my attempts at surviving for the past hour. Sebastian had been excessively harsh during that lesson. His reprimands and unnecessarily loud sighs still ring in my ears to this day.

The horse was walking to his right and I to his left.

"All of what?" I glanced to my right. He had looped the reins in with the neck strap on the horse's neck and allowed it to walk freely beside him.

"Everything."

"What do you mean 'everything'?"

"The company." he replied as we reached the entrance of the stable, "You must have thought of it a little by now."

"Oh, that. I haven't really planned much. I suppose I'd like to expand it more, maybe build a factory in India or somewhere in Europe."

"Well, you certainly have a fair idea of what you want." he noted, glancing over at me and offering me a warm smile that seemed to rid me of the chill of winter at that very moment.

He carefully took off the horse's tack and hung it up on the hook provided. Giving the horse one last gentle pat on the neck, he stepped over to where I stood at the entrance. With a sweeping motion of his slender left hand, he allowed me to lead the way out and into the courtyard. We made our way to the lake with little or no conversation and sat under our willow tree. The silence between us was not awkward in the slightest. We did not need to speak our minds to let each other know what we were thinking. Personally, I believed that was another trait of a strong friendship. No words were necessary.

"Have you heard of it?" he asked suddenly with his head leaning back against the rough bark of the tree, "The war, I mean."

"War? What war?" I raised a brow, "Sebastian, you really do have the strangest notions sometimes."

"Believe me, it's been spoken of. Apparently, the Germans are about ready to pick a fight with Italy, France, Britain and Russia. I'm not too sure though as I have not looked into it properly. I've heard that Britian is going to fight them if war breaks out."

The smell of cigerette smoke reached my nose and I glanced over at him to find him exhaling the repulsive smoke out through his mouth.

"You know that's a filthy habit." I informed him while eyeing the offending object being held delicately between his pale fingers.

"Is it?" he asked redundantly, taking another drag.

"It is. It may not be proven, not yet, but I know it is."

"It's needed."

"You're being rediculous, Sebastian. There won't be a war. Mr. Bingham said so himself that there would be no more wars ."

"Mr. Bingham." he laughed at the name, "What would he possibly know?"

War. It was hard to imagine that it could ever touch us within the confines of our world. The world that consisted of me and Sebastian, and no one else.

"I believe that Mr. Bingham has a thing or two to learn then, don't you think?"

"He's not that bad. He's just a bit of a stick."

"Does he punish you?" he asked quietly. His voice had grown lower and his eyes darker. His raven black hair waved about him in the wind.

"He used to pull my ears from time to time when I answered his questions wrong. He doesn't do it now. Perhaps I've grown better?"

"Or bigger." he suddenly grinned, tossing the cigarette butt to the side and reaching out a hand to my shoulder and playfully shoving me to the ground. I laughed even though my right cheek was pressed to the cold grass while he towered over me.

I thought it could remain that way, with my mother blissfully unaware.

How wrong was I?

Around four months after I turned sixteen, it was discovered. I honestly don't know how, but I had a feeling that Mr. Bingham, the ex-ear puller, had something to do with it. Over time, Sebastian and myself had become careless. We walked together in view of the house and laughed together at our own bad jokes. Whatever it was, it came to my mother's ears.

"Ciel, is that you?" I heard her call from the drawing-room as I passed it by and down the back hall.

"Yes, mother." I called back, slowing my walk.

"A moment, dear."

As I crossed over to the bright room, I was concious of my shoes clattering against the marble floor.

I entered the warm room. The fireplace was lit and a soft orange glow reflected off the piano. Upon my entrance, she gracefully got up from her sofa and made her way over to me, "I'm going to feed the swans. You can join me if you like?" she offered with a small smile.

I doubt I had much of a choice.

She picked up a small white bowl of brown bread, along with some sponge cake left over from tea, from the little table in the middle of the room. A log sizzled in the fireplace and I followed behind her. When we reached the terrace, she snuck her cold hand in the crook of my elbow for warmth.

"The evenings are beautiful in their own way, don't you think, Ciel? Cold, but beautiful."

I nodded but said nothing.

"It seems like such a perfect time to die. I believe I will die in the evening one day, just you wait and see."

And this was why I disliked spending time with my mother. She was difficult to talk to, always, either abstracted or else wanting more than what you could give. I hadn't noticed it when I was younger. To me, she, along with father, had been what made the world revolve around on its axis. But conversations between mother and I... well, there weren't many to speak of as I grew older. The atmosphere had grown unbelievably awkward as time went on.

As we walked, I averted my eyes to the hills, feeling that if I were to stretch a hand out, I would touch them. Some days, I believed them to be unsubstantial, pale, almost in a world of their own.

If only I had been able to get there by candlelight, I would most certainly never come back again, sir.

But one person held me to that place, and I had no intention of leaving him behind.

"Dead heads." she noted somewhat angrily and stopped. She removed her hands from my arm and proceeded to tear off the wilting flowers from their stems jutting out from the grass. She looked down at the handful of browned petals with distaste before dropping them in my pocket, "You can dispose of them later. That _boy_ has been told many times over. Look there, see?"

I held my pocket open for more little corpses.

"Apart from looking ugly, they stifle growth. There are reasons for everything, Ciel. That boy seems incapable of understanding that fact."

To be honest, I wasn't sure to whom she was referring to but I didn't question her.

She took my arm again and we strolled on.

"Extremely careless." she muttered under her breath.

"I believe he rakes the paths quite nicely." I piped up, earning a sour look from herself.

"Ciel, anyone can rake paths. By the way, how much time do you spend with him?"

She paused. It was a long, uneasy pause. My eyes shot to hers and she was still searching for dead heads as she spoke. Her form seemed to quiver with the cold and she held on to my arm tighter. Before she even finished her sentence, my heart had begun to thud rapidly.

"Don't pretend you don't understand who I'm talking about. That servant, your father's one. What's his name... How much of your time...?"

I was blushing violently. I couldn't speak.

I heard an exasperated sigh coming from her and she snapped her fingers at my face, rather as if I were a dog.

"Ciel?" she questioned impatiently.

"Not... not much time." I whispered.

She neither looked at me nor spoke. She merely moved in front of me and I followed behind her in silence. The pebbles crunched under our shoes as we walked along the path. The rooks were making their usual late afternoon racket. I remember musing over the thought that if I were to be reborn again, I would choose to be a rook. They were dark creatures but majestic in their own way. They lead such joyful public lives up in the trees. They screeched without a care in the world and sometimes, I would see them soar up in to the air and disappear from sight. They seldom seemed to die.

Down by the lake, the swans were waiting. Often when Sebastian and I visited that place for a swim, they would make themselves scarce. They only seemed to appear when my mother arrived, along with food.

One had its beak burrowed in under its wings, as if it were scratching at an itch. The other had its long neck stretched out, ready and waiting.

I noticed how the hills looked very close and very clear. However, rain was in the air.

Her fingers crumbled the bread and sponge cake angrily. She then held some out for the swans to take. Their heads dipped and rose again. I glanced down at their ugly, webbed feet that crushed the grass. She then threw the remnants of the bowl into the water and the birds splashed in after them. They were beautiful once more.

She wiped her fingers with a handkerchief and placed it back in her sleeve for safe keeping.

"What's his name again?"

I wondered why she was asking that, seeing as she knew full well what his name was. I then realised that she wanted to make me feel uncomfortable.

There was no point in pretending I knew little about him, "Sebastian."

"Ah that's right." she laughed lightly, "Well, no more Sebastian. End to that. Yes."

I stared blankly ahead.

She took my arm again and leaned on me slightly to match my pace with her one. She walked ever so slowly, "You're not a child any longer, Ciel. You're a young man."

I chewed on the insides of my cheeks as the nerves began to build up inside me.

She glanced up at me and smiled, "But of course you must have known this without my telling you."

Her dress was a pale grey and matched the sky. The end of the skirt was gently kicked out in front of her as she walked.

"We thought it was about time for a little broadening of your education, Ciel. I believe that Mr. Bingham has served his purpose. I think the time has come when... well, I must admit that I have always wanted to travel."

I could feel her eyes watching me carefully. I stared down at my feet that moved automatically back and forth with each step.

"They say travel broadens the mind." she continued on, "This is when real education starts. No more Mr. Bignham. You are old enough now to be a good companion, I believe. You can take good care of me. I thought we might journey to Greece first. What do you think?"

Her eyes looked hopeful as she waited for my response.

"We?" I nearly croaked out, "You mean, you and I?" I tried to keep my face composed.

"Yes, darling." she replied with a small laugh, "Oh don't sound so alarmed, Ciel. Yes. You and I. Why not?"

"Greece?" I repeated hoarsely.

"It's a beautiful country, they say."

"Hm."

"Well?" she asked. Her grip on my arm tightened.

"Well what?"

She huffed a sigh, "You are being so obtuse, Ciel. A lot like your father. Don't you think it's a splendid idea? It will allow us to catch up." She replied enthusiastically. Her fingers were biting into my arm at this point, like angry little teeth, "It's all arranged."

"Mother, supposing I said I didn't want to go?"

I winced as her nails dug through my jacket and into my skin. I wonder if she was concious of it.

"But you won't, will you?"

She relaxed her hold then.

"No." I finally murmured, "I don't suppose I will."

She reached up a slender finger and caressed my cheek briefly, "That's settled then. I'm so happy. And you won't be off seeking that servant again, will you?"

I said nothing.

"You won't." she assured me. She seemed so sure of herself, "It just can't happen, darling. It's not... it's not proper. From now on, I forbid it. Absolutely."

I felt a sudden sting in my eyes.

We walked back along the path to the house in utter silence. When we reached the bottom of the steps, she turned to me, "We'll have so much fun." she smiled, petting my hair as if I were her pet dog. She then turned away from me and disappeared into the house.

I stood frozen for a moment, trying to process our one-sided conversation.

Fun?

I laughed on the spot.

The idea of 'fun' was not in her mind when she arranged it. She knew exactly what she was doing.

That evening after dinner, I was called into the drawing-room. I suppose you could call it the central part of the house. My father sat opposite my mother in his sofa. I'm supposing that unconciously, we had all claimed a sofa each. We never sat beside one another. My mother, of course, sat elegantly while reading her Edgar Allen Poe book. I presumed she was reading the poem "Annabel Lee". My father was reading a newspaper. I forget what paper he read. The name escapes me. Sebastian stood behind him, as stoic as ever. His face was emotionless and his lips were set in a firm line. His eyes stared coldly in front of him. I tried not to eye him for an explanation. I knew he couldn't talk but a simple facial expression would have sufficed.

I warily sat down in my usual spot.

"There you are, Ciel." my father acknowledged, not bothering to look up from his newspaper.

"Do make yourself comfy." suggested my mother, as if I were a guest in her home. It was still quite bright outside and I sat staring out the window as questions raced through my mind.

"Why don't you have a glass of port?" he offered, glancing at the table and then back to his paper.

I blushed and shook my head.

"Are you lonely?"

"No, father. At least I don't believe I am."

"Good." he replied. His lips set into a firm smile and his eyes softened in understanding as they met mine.

Mother suddenly got up from her sofa and walked over to the piano and began to play softly. I'm guessing it was Chopin. I can't really remember. She was quite the avid fan of his.

"We..." he began, his voice fading as he glanced over at his wife. A look of sadness, and possibly anger, filled his darkening eyes. His eyes then returned to mine and filled with that same soft, kindness they had possessed before, "We believe that it's time for you to stretch your wings a bit. It will be good for you to see a bit of the world."

"So mother said."

"What do you think?"

"I..." my voice faded as my eyes wandered over to Sebastian's unusually rigid form, "I haven't really had much time to..."

"Oh of course he approves, Vincent. What boy of his age wouldn't?"

My father frowned behind her back. If only it was he and I in the room...

"I thought," he started, reaching out and placing his paper on the table, "that you could help me with the hunt next season."

"I'd like that." I gave him a small smile. My father's company was sought out more than my mother's, "Thank you."

"We'll have to see..." he began, but his sentence trailed off and he took in a deep breath, "If there's one thing I hate," he retorted, raising his voice so that she could hear him clearly, "it's music playing in the backround when I'm trying to talk."

She ignored him and continued playing. My mother had become somewhat ignorant of my father over the years. He leaned back, no doubt expecting that she would ignore him.

"In a year or so, I believe it will be time to tell you more of this house. I'm getting on you know, Ciel. I think it's about time that we get to know each other a little better."

The piano grew louder behind me.

I could feel my face stiffen in embarrassment. I nodded to him with a meek smile.

"I'll have to fill you in on the secrets of this family," he smiled, "when you get back, that is." he added reluctantly. He looked a little dubious as he glanced over at the piano, "Perhaps it will be best if you went away for a little while."

"But... isn't... isn't there going to be a war?" I asked. Without actually looking at him, I could see Sebastian tense.

My mother took her fingers off the keys and a low hum lingered in the room.

"Well, what I mean is... if there's going to be a war, is it really wise to go travelling? I don't know for certain but... I was just wondering."

My mother laughed. Her laughter had always been so charming. It rung around the room like bells chiming and tittering.

"Wherever did you hear that?" she asked of me as she swivelled on the stool and walked back to her sofa.

"There are tensions, yes." said my father, "But I have no doubt in my mind that they will be ironed out."

"But what I want to know is where you heard such a stupid notion." she questioned, "Where did you hear it? I'd like to know."

I made sure to not to look in Sebastian's direction.

"I believe it's in the papers." my father answered for me quickly, "The international section. Those countries are just power seekers, along with Britain. When I am done with this, you may read it, if you wish. It's hard to believe, isn't it?"

I glanced at the paper on the table, eyeing the headline.

He looked over at me. His eyes held something. At the time, I wasn't sure of what it was. But I realise now that he had been warning me, "We seem so remote here and protected."

"Oh Vincent." she sighed, picking up her book and reading from where she had left off, "I'll admit that you do become quite boring when you talk about nothing like that. And you."

I glanced upwards to meet my mother's fiery gaze.

Her tone had suddenly demanded my attention, "To whom do you speak of such things?"

I could feel my mouth open and close, much like a fish.

No matter how she tried to hide it, I knew she was thinking of Sebastian and looking at him peripherally while staring at me, "Is it the servants?" she asked then, and the edges of her lips curled upwards, as if amused to find me uncomfortable. It was like her own little personal game.

"No."

"Then who?" she demanded.

"People."

"Oh be more specific, child." she demanded. She drew her lips together tightly before she flat out stared at Sebastian. I could see him gulp by the way his Adam's apple bobbed. Her eyes then slowly met mine and her right brow rose in a silent question. She waited somewhat impatiently for an answer.

I figured it wise not to anger her further by refusing to answer her question which she already knew the answer to. She would only reprimand him. My father put his foot down when it came to the servants, especially Sebastian. He was going nowhere, even if she demanded it, "Perhaps." I answered.

I saw her shoulders rise and fall as she looked me in the eye intently, "What does he know about anything?"

She had quite clearly excluded my father at this point.

I could see my father's tired eyes glance back and forth between us through his bangs.

"He may not know as much as you," I replied, but truthfully, I believed Sebastian knew a lot more than she ever would, "but he knows a lot more than I do."

"You are never to talk to him again. Do you understand?"

I caught Sebastian's eyes narrowing and I could tell he was angry, but he put on a good act and stayed calm.

My father pursed his lips and his eyes flashed back to mine through his dark bangs. His look was one of sympathy. Perhaps he knew of our friendship all along...

I could only imagine how uncomfortable Sebastian had felt at that very moment.

My father then acted as if he hadn't a breeze of whom she were referring to. I'll admit that we may not have shared as close a relationship as we would have liked, but we were on the same wavelength. He knew what mother was like. In his own way, he was helping me by feigning ignorance.

"I understand what you're saying, mother, but truly I don't understand why."

My father's eyes never left my own.

"Just accept my judgement then." she replied haughtily. She waved me off with a light flick of her hand.

"But he's nice." I blurted out, refusing to have my opinion overlooked by her, "We're... he's my friend." I clenched my teeth as she got up and walked over to the window.

_My only friend._

"Vincent." came my mother's harsh tone.

My father sighed. His look was apologetic then, "Ciel..."

I began to shake my head at him, pleading silently with him to stand up for me on this. _Please_, I mouthed to him.

"In a way," he started, averting his eyes from my own, "Your mother's right."

I shut my eyes tightly. I shouldn't have gotten my hopes up.

"Whoever this boy is," he said hesitantly, glancing to his left to find Sebastian at his side, "I'm sure it's an unsuitable relationship."

"In _every_ way." my mother added.

From my peripheral vision, I could see Sebastian's jaw clench and unclench.

"I wouldn't quite say that." my father spoke, sending my mother a look I couldn't decipher at the time, "It's a sad fact though, Ciel, that one has to accept while still young. The responsibilities and limitations of the class of which you were born into... they have to be accepted, even by you. But think of the advantages. Once you think of them, then the rest will follow." my father's gaze softened and searched my eyes, as if looking for forgiveness.

My mother tutted, "Nothing." she began, "You go on and on about nothing. You're always the same..."

And they wondered how I had become so reclusive...

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**So that was chapter 5! I'm having so much fun writing this story! Again, I'm trying to update as frequently as possible for you all. Please leave a review and let me know what you think. As long as you guys think it's good then I'm happy :) Thank you all so much for reading and taking the time out of your day to do so. I really appreciate it xD**


	6. Our Moment

**It's officially Christmas Day! I can't sleep (I'm 18 and still get super excited *derp*) and it's exactly 1:13am in the morning so I thought what better way to spend my time waiting for 8:30am to arrive then type up chapter 6 for you all as a Christmas present! Happy Christmas!**

**Thanks for the reviews! They mean a lot :)**

**Disclaimer: I do not own "How Many Miles to Babylon?" Or Kuroshitsuji. This is just a fan story *hurrrhurrr***

**Enjoy!**

* * *

**How Many Miles to Babylon?**

**Kuroshitsuji / How Many Miles to Babylon?**

**Chapter VI: Our Moment**

**xMiss Shizaya Michaelisx**

* * *

We went to Europe. Italy first. We examined churches and fine art galleries until my feet, eyes and mind ached. The sun baked everything in sight. We ate strange and sometimes delicious meals under dim awnings and conversed with people as charming and detached as ourselves. I have acquired a whole catalogue of new sounds, smells and sensations. I guess I have all that to thank her for.

When we arrived back, the trees were bare and ragged, nothing like when we had left. I could see the violent shivers coursing through my mother as she stepped out of the motor, whereas I felt nothing but joy to be back home amongst the hills and lake. I remember smiling at the damp air and the sky that filtered out the sun. Then I looked to the house and my smile fell.

Yes, so much for broadening the mind.

During our absence, my father had become a much smaller man. I don't mean physically, but something in him did not seem quite right as he shook my hand and welcomed us back. His face was awfully pale. I had wondered if he were sick. He assured me that he wasn't when I asked him the day after we got back. I wasn't convinced but I didn't press him any further on the subject.

No longer did I spend my days listening to Mr. Bingham. I remember his last day teaching me. I had waved and smirked smugly when it was time for him to finally leave and never come back. He looked back at me as if he wanted to throttle me. I never did like that man. I guessed that his teaching me was his only source of income. When that thought popped into my head, my smirk grew wider.

I then spent my days with my father and his land steward. He had bought me a new chestnut mare seeing as my skills at horse riding had apparently improved. They hadn't of course, even if the incredibly skilled Sebastian was my instructor. She was a mad thing and quivered when I caressed her strong neck tentatively. Her big brown eyes darted about manically.

"Ah..." was all I could say.

"Yes. Isn't she a beauty?" agreed Finnian, the groom, who also took on the role as gardener occasionally. He gazed at the horse with wide, adoring eyes, "The master paid a high price for her, so he did. He was right to do so. She's lovely."

"Ah."

I decided there and then to call her Morrigan-Bree.

"Well I think it's quite a strange and dare I say, ugly name." my mother commented as we sat to dinner that night. She was always one to voice her opinions.

"The wine, please, son."

I reached out for the bottle and passed it to him. I remember catching his hand shake as he took it from me.

"Did you invent it or have you heard it from somewhere?" she inquired while watching my father pour the dark, red liquid into his glass with a little difficulty. He was lucky he was able to control the trembling enough so that the wine didn't splash on to the white table cloth. Concern washed over me. I wanted to say something, but not in front of her.

"I chose Morrigan because it was the name of a famous witch, and Bree because it means strength."

"How interesting." she stated tiresomely as she took a sip of her own wine, "You mean like Morgan le Fay?"

"Something like that, yes."

Only then did it come to my attention that Sebastian was not in his usual place behind my father. My father seemed to read my mind and he shook his head ever so slightly so as not to catch my mother's attention. I narrowed my eyes just the tiniest bit to silently voice my curiousity as to where Sebastian might be. He shook his head again and proceeded to focus his attention back on the plate in front of him. I did the same.

"It must be an Irish witch, with a name like."

"She was indeed Irish." I replied over to her, "She could morph herself into other creatures. I believe that horse is her newest shape to date..."

"Oh Ciel, you are absurd."

I could feel my right eye twitch as I merely plastered on a small smile, "Father," I said, turning my attention to him, "Have you looked into her eyes?"

He nodded as he swallowed his food, "Yes I have. I take it you are pleased with her?"

A small smile graced my lips as his eyes searched mine, perhaps searching for what could not be said out loud.

My father was at least trying now, unlike her. I decided to placate him, "As pleased as I have been with anything, along with Eloy."

It was a lie. I regret that it was a lie. The horse was indeed beautiful, but not something I could truly value.

"Good, my son, good."

My mother placed, or should I say,_ tossed_ her knife and fork down with a clatter on her plate and we both glanced over to see her staring back at us both with an incredulous glare, "Honestly. You astound me, both of you. Ciel and I spend four months in Europe,_ four months_, and all you both want to do is discuss a horse's eyes."

"Well," began my father, placing his palms flat on the table cloth. His eyes were filled with false enthusiasm, "What would you prefer us to talk about?"

Her eyes narrowed dangerously and she eyed him with contempt. She said nothing.

I had blushed and looked down at the sparkling silverware that had been neatly placed around my plate.

"You know, I am not as uncultivated as you seem to think." he spoke over to her coldly. He leaned forward a little from the spine of his chair, "I was merely asking _my_ son if he was pleased with his gift."

Her silence filled the room. After that, me and my father carried on to have a forgettable conversation. I wish I could remember it. I know that our words had been constrained, as if groping their way through thick fog from one speaker to the other.

Autumn soon became winter and Sebastian was, to my relief, still in my father's service, as I knew he would be. He was given the task of training Morrigan-Bree so as to be suitable to be ridden by someone such as myself. He surprisingly had her trained in no time. He admitted to me that he had never been given a task such as training a horse before. I believe my father had given it to him because he knew Sebastian was well capable of pulling it off.

I held out my hand to him just as he was passing by to bring the horse back to her stable. He paused a moment before hesitantly taking my hand in his without looking at me.

My face fell as he looked anywhere but my face.

Quickly composing myself, I gave his hand a gentle shake, "Congratulations, Sebastian." I smiled, but I felt the corners of my mouth frown with growing worry, "You did it."

His hand was ice-cold. He had not been wearing his gloves.

"Thank you," he replied quietly, "sir."

"She's turned out well. More than well, I should say." I pressed, searching for more of a reaction.

He answered with a curt nod of his head.

"Splendid in fact." I carried on, hoping desperately with each passing second that he would at least look me in the eye.

His lips curled up into a half-smile.

"I'm quite happy with the results too."

And with that, his eyes met mine, and the most audible sigh of relief escaped me. I couldn't help but feel happy at that moment, and I'm sure it had shown on my face.

"You should be proud." I told him. Oddly enough, I had suddenly felt quite giddy.

"I am." he replied, his smile widening as he watched me stifle my sudden laughter. His eyes seemed to bore into mine as he released a small, breathless laugh of his own.

True friendship... Love, perhaps?

I hadn't quite understood at the time, but that's the only way I can really describe it. It was different somehow. I'll always remember that as our moment.

"Good." I smiled, breathing quite heavily now as if I were recovering from running. I found myself suddenly lost in those maroon eyes of his, "Se...Sebastian..." I reached my hand out for him once more but my mother placed her hand firmly down on my arm. Her fingers clamped themselves around it and pulled it back to her side.

"Ciel, dear," she whispered, just loud enough so the butler could hear, "we must be going. I find this wind too much to bear." she nodded ever so briefly to Sebastian before tugging on my arm and pulling me with her. I glanced back at him one last time to find him doing the same. He had taken a step forward in our direction, as if he were about to take off after us. With one last impatiant tug on my arm curtesy of my mother, I reluctantly turned my gaze away from him. Out from the corner of my eyes, I could see that my mother's face was pale white from both the cold and anger.

"I am most displeased." she muttered harshly.

She said nothing else until we got back to the steps leading up to the pantry.

"There's something about him, Ciel."

"About who?" I mentally slapped myself.

"What do you mean 'who'? You know exactly who I'm talking about." she answered rapidly, "That servant of your father's. That _butler_. The one who looks like he converses with the Devil and all his minions."

"I'm sorry, mother, but that's nonsense."

"Oh is it? You never know with those sort of people. Why, by just looking at him, even I can see there's something dark about him."

"His hair perhaps?" I suggested lightly.

She didn't seem to find me humourous judging my the look she granted me.

Even now, I wonder if I have been unfair to my mother. I have never been able to understand her motives. I've never really known any other woman so I can't compare her to others. There was Meyrin, but that's hardly fair comparing a maid to a countess. Of course there was Lizzy and aunt Francis, but they lived in world all of their own. People were drawn to my mother because of her beauty, but it was only a thin shell which served as a cover. People never saw the black, seething rage that constantly comsumed her. My mother had been so different when I was a child. I don't know if she had been different, or if my childish senses hadn't picked up on the reality. She loved to play the piano, yet it always made me uneasy. She played with underlying anger. I would always get up and leave when the opportunity arose. I preferred to listen from a safe distance.

I think she loved me, but wanted more from me of which I had no comprehension or undertsanding.

As the months passed by, it angered her to see that my father and I had become close. He had begun to seek my company rather than hide away in his office doing paperwork. He had often held off on work just so we could go for walks in the gardens and talk about current affairs such as the war that had just begun. I had rather enjoyed those moments when it had just been us two. No mother there to upset the atmosphere. No snide remarks. Just father and son.

I can't help but smile to myself as I think back. They had been good times, but I soon learned that with good times comes the bad, no matter how much you try to avoid them.

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**And that's it for chapter 6. I know it's shorter than the others but I think I'm done for the night, or should I say morning? It's now 3:21am on Christmas Day so I should really get some sleep. I hope you guys enjoyed this. If you did, leave a review and let me know :) Thank you again to all who have reviewed so far. You guys are epic!**

**Happy Christmas everyone! *hugs***


	7. The War Had Begun

**Chapter 7 has arrived ya'll!**

**Thank to those of you who have taken the time to review :) **

**I'd just like to say that you, Cesura, have been awesome! This chapter is dedicated to you because you have been so epic and really nice about me not updating for a while haha XD**

**Disclaimer: I own neither "How Many Miles to Babylon?" nor Kuroshitsuji. It's just a fan story. **

**Enjoy!**

* * *

**How Many Miles to Babylon?**

**Kuroshitsuji / How Many Miles to Babylon?**

**Chapter VII: The War Had Begun**

**xMiss Shizaya Michaelisx**

* * *

To be honest, we paid little attention to the war at first. We talked of it, but we discussed it as if we were discussing tennis scores. Belgium and Flanders seemed so far away from us. Our own fields were ripe and firm under our feet that neither of us felt the need to care for anything else. We were nobles after all.

It was Autumn and the earth was temporarily coloured white with mist and dew. A few familiar faces disappeared. Many of the young servants left our service to fight in the war. I realise now why my father had tried his best to persuade them not to leave. I'm sure they are all gone now too.

The war covered the front pages of newspapers that were brought from London by train. My father would only read a sentence or two before casting the newspaper down on the dining table with a rough sigh, "Fools." he muttered. He got up from his chair at the head of the table and made his way over to the window with his hands clasped behind his back as if he were taking a leisurely stroll through the gardens. My mother clicked her fingers at me to pick up the newspaper. I passed it to her.

My mother bent forward, frowning at the paper as she read the headline with care.

"They are food for cannons." he commented harshly.

My father didn't look back at us as he spoke. He merely shouted the five words into the empty hall while he stormed towards the door and banged it shut behind him. My mother sat with a slight smile on her face, as if trying to contain her amusement. I eyed the paper in her hands.

The war had begun.

My poor father. He seemed to age terribly after this. Not in looks, but in mind. I found that he had took to drinking. He was drinking more than was good for him. He retired almost completely into the mysterious tower of his own mind and it was a difficulty every time to cross the moat which he had seemed to build around himself to keep us out. Or maybe her.

We sat one evening in the drawing-room. I believe it had been late October. I rememeber the wind howling miserably outside as we all sat in our usual places, except my mother. The room had been toasty warm with the fire roaring with life behind me. Yet even though the room was warm, delightfully warm, I can't possibly say the same for the atmosphere between us.

"Christopher Percy has been killed."

I could hear the silk of my mother's dress softly moving as she walked around the room. My father's face had been unusually pale, even in the glow of the fire.

Christopher Percy.

Ah yes. Poor little Percy. He had been one of the two children that lived on the estate. He had been around my age too. Actually, he was younger than myself, only by a few months. But he was much taller. His mother was a maid in our service. He was one of the two children my parents, my mother truthfully, had forbidden me to speak to all those years ago. I realise now why my father had tried to persuade him to stay rather than fight. But it was impossible to move the lad. Once he set his mind on something, it was set in stone. He had believed it was his duty to fight, and that as a child of Britian, he would be shamed if he cowered and refused to help his country. He was a sore loss, and my father was feeling the weight of it. It was evident in his tired eyes. You see, my father was secretly very much like myself. He saw through class and status. They were my mother's values, not ours.

"Flanders." she said. She sounded like she was deep in thought, "It seems so far away yet so close, does it not?" she pondered, stretching out her hands towards the fire. The diamonds on her fingers glittered, lighting the cieling and walls with flashes of white, sparkling light.

My father's eyes seemed to bore into my mother's back until he slowly leaned forward and picked up the decanter and filled three glasses.

"Damned fools." was all he could say.

"I was there when the telegram arrived. Yes, I think I remember him." she said with an offhanded gesture, yet there was something in her tone that didn't seem right.

"Such a waste." my father stated as he stared blankly before him.

"Yes..." I whispered in agreement, running the pad of my thumb along the pale material of the couch.

My mother turned her strangely excited eyes towards me as she took the glass that was offered to her. We drank our sherry in complete silence, except for my father's heavy breathing. He was flexing his fingers and I heard his knuckles crack. My mother was either completely oblivious or she purposely feigned ignorance.

"You know, Vincent." she started suddenly. My eyes darted to my father, watching his expression. He was clenching his jaw, ready for the oncoming verbal attack, "You're growing old. I've been noticing it lately. Are you ill, perhaps? Maybe you should see a doctor?"

"There's little a doctor could do for my situation." he replied. His voice was low as he spoke. His mind seemed to be elsewhere.

One small breathless laugh escaped her lips, "Or perhaps it is just age then, hm?"

"Possibly." he answered, "I'm not as young as I used to be. But I don't think that is the real problem."

I swallowed thickly as the atmosphere in the room grew chilly. I decided to lock my gaze on the leg of the table closest to me. I don't know why. It wasn't interesting. But I felt compelled to look anywhere other than my parents.

"I notice that you take a stick with you when you go walking outside."

He acknowledged this observation with a slight bow of his head.

"You will have to get yourself into shape again." she informed, taking a small sip of her sherry, "When Ciel goes off to war, you won't have him to rely on as you do now." she finished with a charming smile.

I glanced up at my father, the smallest laugh escaping me. He stared back, and suddenly we both began to laugh. After a few short moments, she joined in. We sat about the fireplace with our glasses in our hands, like three happy people laughing. The door opened and Sebastian stepped in gracefully, bowing curtly towards us, "Dinner is served, my Lord."

After finishing our meal, we remained at the dining table. Dinner had been eaten almost in complete silence. Only when the maids were in the room had any of us tried to make conversation. This little unspoken deal of attempting normalcy, of some sort, between us was forgotten when Sebastian was in the room. There was no point pretending. He knew everything. I remember feeling uneasy. I had shifted in my chair uncomfortably while my mother peeled her pear with delicate strokes of a knife. The dining room was more beautiful during the night than in the day. Even with the warmth radiating from the fireplace, the room still seemed chilly. Chilly but oddly beautiful. Maybe it was the colour scheme... Comfortable meals and uncomfortable talk are always in my mind when I think of that room. The knife she held between her fingers had been silver, the handle ornately curlicued.

I've never liked pears.

"Vincent, why did you laugh?" she asked him as she slid a piece of pear past her lips.

"It's quite obvious." he replied, "Your remark was laughable."

I rose from my seat, "If I may be excused, fa-"

"Sit down." she sounded irritated.

I sat down.

"I wasn't making a joke, Vincent."

"Mother..."

He interrupted me, "If you weren't making a joke," he began, nearly hissing as the sound of his right elbow hit off the table with a 'thud' as he leaned forward, his index finger half pointing at her in a somewhat accusing manner, "then like everyone else, you have taken leave of your senses."

"Ah, ah." she replied, rather as if she were scolding a three year old, "Oh no, Vincent." she looked up from her work slicing the pear, "He has to go."

"Sebastian, some more wine, please." my father ordered, leaning back in his chair with his fists clenched on the table.

Sebastian stepped forward, the bottle of old, expensive wine already in his gloved hands. He filled my father's wine glass far too much for my liking. My father didn't seem to mind.

"Thank you, Sebastian."

"My Lord." the butler replied with a curt bow of his head. He stepped back away from the table.

"Rachel, am I right to believe that yesterday, you were quite unaware of the existence of the war... No. I beg your pardon, you were indifferent to its existence, and now because... now because an unfortunate young man has been killed, you wish to pack off Ciel. What on earth is possessing you?"

"Oh, Vincent. It is his duty to fight."

He laughed at her, but his eyes flashed dangerously, "His duty to fight, is it? Nobles do _not_ fight."

"He will." she shot back.

"That is _his_ decision."

My mother's eyes glanced over and met my own. She smiled that small smile and I gulped in response.

"He has no choice." she replied to my father.

"_Here_ he has a choice."

"Oh come now, Vincent. It's a moral duty, if nothing else. Why should all the others go, and he not?"

My father stared at her as if she had gone completely mad. He abruptly stood up.

"I refuse to argue. I have work to see to. Please excuse me."

He moved towards the door, speaking as he went in an agitated voice that I had never heard before. He was angry. _Very_ angry.

I watched him leave, wishing that I could have done so too.

"I have given you everything you have ever wanted, Rachel. Everything. Remember that. Ponder deeply before you take away my son. I say no, and it shall stay that way. No."

"That's right. Go see to your work." she called after him with a slight sneer, "Old man." she hissed under her breath.

He left us.

Sebastian had quickly excused himself, but not before sending me a wary glance.

My mother finished her pear in silence. There was an amused gleam in her eyes.

Did I mention that I hated pears?

She wiped at her mouth delicately with a napkin and got up from her seat. She sauntered up behind me and wrapped her arms loosely around my neck, pulling my head back to gently rest against her chest. Her fingers stroked at my hair before she pulled back my bangs from my forehead and kissed me.

"My boy. My dear, sweet boy."

I can truly say that I hated her.

With one last kiss, she let my bangs flop back into their original position. She stepped away and left me in the dining room, alone. I'm positive I had heard laughter like chiming bells floating back to me from the hallway she had disappeared into.

My father had then called me into his study as I was passing by. He had moved his chair from behind his desk to sit infront of the fire. I'm guessing Sebastian did that for him. It was a dark room, a room full of shadows. He was currently glaring at the fire with a glass of brandy in his hand. I slid down to sit on the floor infront of the couch that was situated a bit further back from the fire than his own chair. We sat like that for a long time. His face was more vulnerable to the heat than mine. I could hear him. He was breathing heavily. I could hear the wood in the fire pop and crackle and the way the living shadows stirred about the room, as if watching us.

"Brandy?" he asked eventually.

"No."

He raised his glass and drank from it, "Perhaps the next world will make more sense than this one."

I swear that somewhere, someone sighed. It was not my father and it certainly was not I. Under the circumstances, it was not very comforting.

"I must say," he continued, "your mother is quite an admirible woman."

"Perhaps I will have that drink."

My father's lips curled into a smirk as he got up from his chair and placed his glass down in order to pour me a glass.

I half expected that I would have to get it myself.

"Here you go." he said, handing me the glass. I sniffed at the strange coloured liquid. The smell of it was vile. He sat back down in his chair, brandy in hand, "Ciel, I hope you never experience the humiliation of living with someone who is completely indifferent to you." he sighed, taking a sip of his drink, "Now I know she hates me. I don't expect you to understand."

"I'm sure she doesn't..." I trailed off, realising that I was interfering.

"Forgive me, son. You look alarmed." he noted. The gentle smile never left his lips.

"Well... I suppose I am, in a way."

"Ah, my boy, you must not be alarmed when others speak. We have all been too well trained in behaviour. My back is giving me some trouble..."

"Father, the doctor..." I suggested tentatively.

He laughed. I frowned.

"Why do you say she hates you?" I asked.

"Ciel, you don't honestly believe that she is packing you off to war for serious patriotic reasons, do you?"

"I'm not sure. But I won't be going anyway." I answered.

He laughed again. He seemed to think that I was funny.

"Ah, my son, you'll go. You're a coward," - _in her presence -_ "so you'll go."

"More reason to stay, surely?"

He silently laughed to himself while shaking his head ever so slightly, "You'll go."

"They say it will be over by Christmas..."

"They're never over by Christmas." he whispered, finishing off his brandy.

"Father, I'm not going anywhere."

He continued to laugh at me while I sat in front of him, completely exasperated. At the time, I refused to believe him. The man in front of me, with the shadows coiling about him... what I considered nonsense spouting from his lips, was in fact truth. I was a coward. I didn't like to believe it, but I was. I could only hope that I wouldn't run into my mother any time soon.

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**That's it for the 7th chapter. I hope you all enjoyed and I'm so sorry for the late update. I was away visiting family and I am now back in school. Also, I have a poll on my profile that I would like you to fill out. Thanks guys! XD**

**Guys, I would really appreciate it if you left me some feedback. Feedback is good. I just want to know that what I'm typing is good or not XD**


	8. War And Cheesecake

**Here is chapter 8 for all you lovelies! **

**Why have I not been updating recently? Well, I was actually doing my mock exams (THEY SUCKED BIG TIME!) and so yeah, that's why I have been non-existent this past month... or two months? I don't even know anymore. Yay for tests... But it's the midterm now so WOOT WOOT!**

**Okay so a lot of you have been reading this story, yet I don't know what your thoughts are on it. I'd appreciate some feedback from you all because honestly, I don't know if what I'm typing is any good. I'm really grateful to those who have reviewed already. You guys are awesomesauce! I really appreciate it as it helps me to write this story and inspires me to continue with it.**

**Disclaimer: I own neither Kuroshitsuji or "How Many Miles to Babylon?". I make no money from this story. I never have and I never will. **

**Enjoy!**

* * *

**How Many Miles to Babylon?**

**Kuroshitsuji / How Many Miles to Babylon?**

**Chapter VIII: War And Cheesecake**

**xMiss Shizaya Michaelisx**

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I left him sitting there. He had scooted his chair a little closer to the fire and held one hand out to it so it was between himself and the glowing flames. I heard his muffled voice behind the closed door as I walked away down the hall. He had already begun to speak to the shadows... He seemed to do that a lot while on his own.

My head was fogged with confusion and brandy. I know now that I should have gone out into the cool night air to clear my thoughts. It had been silent. I remember standing in the middle of the hallway, holding my head to steady myself. I wasn't drunk. Far from it. I knew that much.

There was no sound from the piano. I had presumed that she had gone to her room for the night. I hoped for that. I remember from when I was just a toddler that she would sit by the window in her room and brush her hair gently from the roots to the very ends in slow, prolonged strokes. It took time, but I guess she had all the time in the world.

"What did he say?"

I was half way up the staircase when her voice reached me from inside my bedroom. My room was a little ways down the corridor. I was surprised that she heard me, seeing as I was doing my best not to make a sound. I surpressed a sigh. I ran my hand along the polished bannisters, surprised to find that it gleamed to perfection. I thought of the clumsy maid, Meyrin, but soon realised that Sebastian would have had something to do with the spotless shine I that I ran my hand along. I remember smiling at that. The other servants, Bard, Finny and Meyrin especially, were all incompetent. Even so, they were essential to the house, not just for cooking, gardening and cleaning.

I rounded the corner and saw the glow of the fire reflect on the wall opposite my bedroom door. It was slightly ajar and warmth resonated from within. The light from the chandelier above the stairs flickered behind me, barely penetrating the passageway. I hesitantly reached a hand out to the door-knob, and stepped into the room. She was sitting in my armchair by the fire, still dressed as she had been for dinner. She glanced over at me, eyes sparkling.

"Well?"

I took in a breath and shut the door behind me.

"He was only talking, mother. This and that."

She slowly got up from the chair and walked over to the drapes and pulled them back. I watched her as she opened the window, letting in the cold, autumn air. It was a little counterproductive, seeing as I wanted the room warm. The fresh smell blew past her, and somewhere, over the hills I imagined, I could hear very faintly the sound of an old English fiddle being played.

"I have the feeling that you're going to become just like him, Ciel."

Her charming voice was blown back to me by the wind.

"Ever since we got back from Europe... I've been seeing this in you all the time. It's been creeping over you, surounding you like... like a disease." I remember wriggling my nose at that, "I had hoped, darling, that when you grew up, I wouldn't have to be alone anymore."

Her eyes were full of sorrow when she glanced back at me, but quickly narrowed when she noticed my hardened features.

"I'm sorry that I have been... inadequate."

"Have you been drinking with him?"

I nodded slowly, "Yes."

Her lips curled upwards into a tight smile, "Yes, I do believe that inadequate is the right word."

She walked back to me and took my left hand in hers.

"Ciel... I... I don't mean to be unkind. I'm sure that under other circumstances he would have been a more adequate man. I... I can't bear to think that you... You will go, won't you?"

I tried to retrieve my hand, but she held it firmly and showed no sign of letting it go.

"Mother, I don't..."

"It would mean a lot to me, Ciel."

"I don't want to. I don't believe that I have the right to shoot people for a cause I neither understand nor care about."

Of course I had every right to shoot whoever I wanted to. I was a Phantomhive, the Queen's future watchdog. It was part of the job.

"Well..."

"Well, yes. I'm sorry, but I find it rather hard to express myself."

"But I care, Ciel." she cooed, caressing my cheek softly, "I understand. Isn't that enough for you?"

I recall standing there infront of her, not having the nerve to tell her that I didn't believe a word she was saying.

"Mother, I don't feel like being killed either... or even slightly wounded for that matter." I replied back as her soft hand fell from my cheek, "The thought of it doesn't appeal to me in the slightest."

She let out a small laugh, "Oh but why should you be killed?"

"Christopher Percy was."

She fell silent. A draft through the room sent a shiver down my spine and I trembled with it. She intertwined her nimble fingers, her eyes distant. Her lips moved to say something, but not a sound came out. It took her a few long moments to jolt back into reality.

"You're a coward." she whispered sternly.

I wasn't going to argue with that one. I knew I was already.

"Well I must be, seeing as you said I am. It's not exactly a very nice word."

"Cowards are not nice people."

Her eyes were cold. I stared back at her evenly.

"Mother, I think that if we are not careful, we'll say a lot of things that we will both regret. I don't want to go. Hence, I will not be going."

I turned to walk away, but her eyes widened significantly, catching me off guard. She looked like she was about to laugh... or lose it. One way or another, she commanded my attention, "What about for duty? Love or obediance, Ciel?"

I shook my head, "The answer is still no."

There was a light knock on the door and Sebastian's fluid voice sounded from behind it, "Sir, may I come in?"

Idiot. Did he not hear us in here? Did he not hear _her_?

My mother glanced to the door and then back at me, her eyes expectant. Her lips were curved into a slight, wicked smirk.

"Well? Aren't you going to invite him in, _sir_?"

I tried not to glare at her.

In all honesty, I didn't want them in the same room.

"I'll let him in. I'm going now anyway. Goodnight, darling."

I tried to lean away as her hands cupped my cheeks and she placed a delicate kiss on my forehead.

With one last stroke of her thumb on my blushing cheek, she walked to the door and grasped the handle. I could see her grinning behind her bangs, "You will go, Ciel." she whispered, and with that, she turned the handle and pulled back the door.

He held a sparkling tray of treats and tea in one hand while the other gloved hand was perched in front of him, as if he were just about knock again. His face was quite a picture. I can only presume that she smiled at him sweetly. It was her specialty. She was always an exquisite actress when in the company of others. Especially in front of those she disliked the most.

"Oh, Sebastian." she greeted. And there goes the change in voice, "There you are. I see you brought Ciel some dessert, hm? But isn't it a little late for treats though? Oh, no matter." she laughed lightly, "Well I must be off. Goodnight Ciel..." she smiled back at me, her eyes grinning. She turned her attention back to the shocked servant, "Sebastian." she nodded her head ever so slightly to bid him goodnight. He did so too, bowing with a "Goodnight, my lady."

If one didn't know any better, they would surely believe she had two minds. I'm actually surprised she acknowledged him.

She made her way past the able butler and left us.

We waited silently until her footfalls ceased before either of us moved. Sebastian was the first to talk.

"Are you alright, sir?"

Why was he being so formal?

"Don't call me that." I ordered with a wave of my hand. I turned my back to him and wandered over to the bed and practically fell onto it. Dealing with my mother could be tiresome.

"I've brought you a slice of white chocolate cheesecake accompanied by a variety of berries and freshly whipped cream, along with some sweetened tea."

I remember my head perking up at that. I had always been one for sweets, especially Sebastian's sweets.

"Would you care to have some, sir- Ciel?"

My body had felt so heavy when I pushed myself off the bed. I felt weak. Maybe that was the effect a mother like mine could have on a person. My eyelids were drooping as I forced my way over to the armchair in front of the fire, nodding my head as I did so.

"Oh dear." he said with a sigh, following me over to the fire.

I fell backwards into the chair, letting out a breath as I nuzzled back into the warmth.

When I opened my eyes, I was shocked to see a fork in front of my mouth with a small cube of cake and cream on it, "What are you doing?" I asked him, startled when the fork moved closer to my mouth.

Hopefully he thought the fire was what caused the sudden red hue in my cheeks.

"It seems you cannot feed yourself. Just look at you. You're as fragile as an autumn leaf. Open wide. Say 'Ah' for me."

I haughtily crossed my arms over my chest, "You must be joking, Seba-"

Before I could pull back, he shoved the fork into my mouth, consequently blotting fluffy cream over my lips and down my chin, to eventually plop onto my lap.

"Sometimes I question your age, Ciel." he tutted, pulling out a crisp, white handkerchief from his breast pocket. He proceeded to gently dab at my lips and chin with it, all the while I sat frozen, unable to comprehend the will to move. Huh... It's strange how that one little gesture had sent my heart into a frenzy, "And look what you have done to your- Oh honestly." I watched, gobsmacked, as he pulled at the material on my trousers and wiped them clean in achingly long strokes.

"Wha- Look what _I've_ done?" I questioned incredulously, suddenly remembering how to speak, "It's not _my_ fault."

"If you weren't so weak then you wouldn't be in this state." he pointed out, his eyes looking up at me through his bangs.

"Excuse me?" I demanded. I'm sure my eyes were blazing at that point.

He smiled at me. It was his quirky signature smirk. Of course. I should have known. I was his source of amusement, "Surely you must know of that aspect of yourself by now."

"I'm not weak." I spat at him, leaning back.

"Oh really?"

I decided not to answer him. Silence lingered between us. And so, I sat before the fire and I, reluctantly, allowed him to feed me the stupid, tasty dessert. "Open wide." he would say, as if enticing a small stubborn child to eat its dinner.

"Would you look at that. The moon has already risen." he noted absently, looking up at the crescent moon, like that of a Cheshire cat's grin, through the window after I had finished my dessert, "Ciel, it is not good for your health to be up at this hour. You should sleep now."

I agreed and after minutes upon minutes of refusing his help, I eventually submitted and allowed him to change me into my nightclothes. He too, was stubborn when he wanted to be.

After bidding me a goodnight, he granted me one last smile before leaving my company. I heard the door close over with a soft 'click' and listened as his shoes tapped with each stride down the hallway.

My last coherent thought before I drifted off into a cold, dark sleep was that I would have to settle the disagreement between my mother and I. But that could wait till the next day. First, I was going to figure out how to get out of the damn bankets he had wrapped me so tight up in. As "snug as a bug in a rug", huh, Sebastian? I was more than that; I felt like a piece of meat in Diedrich's squashed sandwiches.

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**That's it for chapter 8! I really hope you enjoyed and if you did, make sure to let me know what you thought of it :) **

**Don't forget to answer the poll on my profile concerning this story :D ****Bye guys! XD**


	9. Down Will Come Baby, Cradle And All

**Okay so I'm back in school tomorrow... Noooo! So I figured that I would give you all a new chapter to finish off the midterm. Chapter 9 is here y'all! And I'd like to mention that I have a poll on my profile about this story. It would be awesome if you all could check it out :) If any of you have questions for me, don't be shy. I love answering questions and talking to people. So like I said, don't be shy! **

**I decided that I would listen to music while typing this. I don't normally do that as I find music to be really distracting and that I can't think while I'm listenng to it... I have a little playlist for this story too so if anyone wants to know it, just let me know in either a review or PM :) **

**Some things are going to be cleared up about Ciel's mother in this. I know a lot of you hate her but have a re-think after this chapter. You may still feel the same though... Let me know what you think :) **

******Disclaimer: I'm not the amazing Yana Tobosa :'( I wish I was, but I'm not. I'm not Jennifer Johnston either. Plus I make no money from this. **

**I hope you all enjoy it and don't forget to review!**

* * *

**How Many Miles to Babylon?**

**Kuroshitsuji / How Many Miles to Babylon?**

**Chapter IX: Down Will Come Baby, Cradle And All**

**xMiss Shizaya Michaelisx**

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_"Do you really think I wanted to stay here all these years? Do you think I would have stayed if it wasn't for you, Ciel?"_

Her words echo in my mind, like a woman stressing her anguish in a deep, dark, unforgiving cave. It reverberates, causing the cave's wall to tremble and collapse.

"Mother," I had said, "that has absolutely nothing to do with this."

"It's only a small sacrifice, Ciel. I... I could have had a life." she exclaimed. Her eyes flared with frustration as she watched me by the fire.

My right hand was placed on the white marble mantelpiece. My fingers clenched around the smooth edge. It was warm, thanks to the heat of the glorious fire. I swallowed thickly, "I'm sorry." I didn't meet her eyes, for my own eye had taken too much interest in anything but her.

I did not want to apologise. I had nothing to apologise for. At the time, I felt like I had no other option but to say that I was sorry, even though it was for that which was out of my control.

"_Sorry_." she muttered sarcastically, which I'm guessing she hadn't wanted me to hear, or maybe she did?, "I only want you to do this one thing for me. _One_ thing. All the other young men have gone to fight."

"As father would say, they are fools."

"They could be heroes." she retorted.

"I don't think so... But isn't it better to have a live coward for a son rather than a dead hero?"

I laughed, or atleast tried to.

"I think you're going to become cynical, just like him." she laughed and placed her hand lightly over her mouth, as if just realising something highly amusing,"I can see it now. You grow more and more like him each passing day. Your turn of phrase, mannerisms... freakish ways of using your mind. It's is like a sponge. It absorbs everything. You watch and you copy. That's what you do." she accused while sweet laughter chimed around me.

I stood silently and said nothing.

What was I to say?

"Ciel..." she whispered sadly. Her soft voice floated about the room while the fire roared in the hearth. My heart felt like it was going to leap out from of my chest at any moment. I recall a stinging sensation in the tips of my fingers from where I had clamped them down around the edge of the mantelpiece a little too harshly, "I know that you're my only son. _Our_ only son. But... that was not always going to be the case... I... I believe that you are old enough now to know... that you were not always going to be our only child..."

It pains me when I think about what she told me. I had never seen that side of my mother, the somewhat kind, emotional person who had been hiding behind a curtain, like an actress too afraid to step out onto the stage. A person too unsure, too reluctant to speak out in fear of disrupting the social norms.

She gently took my hand in hers and led me to the couch were freshly brewed tea awaited us on the white ornate table.

We both sat, while I awkwardly stared out the window that was slightly ajar. Again I could hear the sounds of an old English fiddle. It was very faint though.

She seemed hesistant to talk. I watched her from the corner of my eye. Her breathing was a little more erratic, but not overly so, "When... when you were younger... I think you may have been about four or five I think... I found that I was... expecting. Oh Ciel," she let out a small, defeated laugh. Her eyes were distant, as if looking at something which I myself could not see, "I was so happy." he sight. She bit her lip and intertwined her fingers. Her chest shook a little as she took uneven breaths, "You're... father was happy too. We _both_ were."

I tried to swallow the sudden lump in my throat, but I couldn't.

"I remember telling your father..." she smiled sadly at the memory, "You should have seen his face. It was priceless. I remember having to tell him that it was early days yet and that to not go organising parties to celebrate. I... I didn't want you to be told until it was safe to do so. I wanted it to be a surprise. I wanted to wait until I was at least a few months gone to make sure nothing happened so you wouldn't be disappointed... Anyway, he of course didn't listen and a party was soon organised. Both of your aunts were delighted with the news and Deiderich clapped your father on the back and congratulated him for... nevermind." she laughed softly to herself, "A few months passed by. I was getting ready to tell you. I may have been three or four months gone. I wasn't really big but you kept asking why I was getting bigger and bigger."

A smile spread across my lips. That's right. I vaguely remember asking her that.

"I didn't want to tell you because I had planned to tell you properly. So I waited... but... your father was... distant to say the least. And one afternoon, I found him embracing one of the maids. I'll admit she was a beauty. Dark hair, bright blue eyes, elabaster skin... She was definitely too beautiful to be a mere maid. It was Chrisptopher Percy's mother to be exact."

Damn lump.

"I hid around the corner... and... I... overheard him asking how his son was." she spoke through clenched teeth. This time, she laughed a little too manically for my liking, "Ciel, has it never once occured to you how much that child looked like you? Has it not? Did you not even attempt to connect the dots as to how much you two were alike?"

It seemed to take a very long time for her words to reach me. They penetrated my skull and reached deep into the dephts of my weird and twisted mind. A knot in a piece of wood exploded and showered the grate with orange sparks. Then suddenly the room began to tilt and spin. I gripped hold of the armrest. It didn't help to prevent the sickening chaos that was my new life at that very moment.

"Do you realise now that there was more to why we didn't want you to befriend that child?"

"I..." I cleared my throat. It was so dry, "I don't suppose you," cough, "really want me to treat that seriously."

"But I do. That's why Vincent acted the way he did when we were told of Christopher's death. Of course, he couldn't say anything in your presence."

I remember how my father had seemed to age considerably after the news of poor Christopher Percy's death. I pushed that thought aside, determined not to place a stain on my father's good name.

"I loved your father... more than anything. There was nothing I loved more in this world than you and Vincent. Of course I couldn't stand back and let them continue, completely oblivious to my presence. I felt like my insides were being shredded and... I panicked. I stepped out of my hiding place and confronted them with my silence. I simply stood there... I couldn't find the words in me to express myself. You see, that day I was supposed to be spending time with your aunt Ann and her new little girl."

That didn't make sense. I didn't recall any other female cousin except for Elizabeth. I didn't know aunt Ann had a child. My mother saw my confusion etched on my face.

"Of course you don't remember her. She... unfortunately died when she was three in that carriage accident with her father and your aunt. Luckily your aunt survived... but they didn't. Her name was Bonnie. She died when you were about seven. Believe me, you two had met. I just suppose that it was so long ago now that you wouldn't remember. You only saw her once or twice because Angelina and her husband lived in the city and couldn't make it out here often due to their work."

I was still so confused. I got up from the couch and hurried over to the window as I was in desperate need of fresh air.

"Like I said... I panicked and... Ciel, it _hurt_ to see him with someone else. Not only did I find that he was with _her_ while I was having you, but that he also had another child. And again he was with her while I was expecting for the second time. I guess you could say that it all came crashing down around me... and the stress wasn't good for me or the child. Your father tried to calm me but I wasn't having any of it. I got so wound up that I.. I lost the baby. And what made it worse was that I had to see it through to nine months because I was too far gone. That's why I sent you to stay with your aunt Francis for those three weeks during the summer, and you didn't want to go and you made such a fuss about having to spend time being dressed up in girly clothes by Elizabeth. Do you remember?"

That's right. I remembered. I remembered whining about having to go away for three weeks with no real explanation. I was told it was a little holiday for being such a good boy. I remembered crying to my father because I didn't want to leave to be with my strict aunt Francis. He was sat in the chair in his office, not really taking heed of my words, or of me for that matter. His eyes were empty and dead. It seemed like he was incapable of showing any emotions... or maybe he had no more emotions to shed?

"That's why... that's why I want you to be more than just a watchdog for the Queen. I don't want you to grow up and make the same mistakes he has made. Believe me, I cherished your father but... when he did that, I'm afraid that I couldn't forgive him. And I suppose you could blame that for my apathy. I'm sorry that it has turned out this way. I'll admit, I'm not a very nice woman. I don't suppose I ever would have been, but under other circunstances I might have been... oh, I don't know... a lot different certainly."

"Why did you tell me all this?" I whispered. My voice sounded strained.

"You deserved to know. You're old enough now to know the truth."

"I have to say, you sound rather calm about it." I clenched my fingers and stared out the window. The sounds of the old English fiddle blew through the wind towards us.

"Why not? After all, I've had a long time to become calm about it."

"Sleepless nights."

"Oh come, Ciel."

"I don't mean for you. For me. I'm... I'm disposessed." I bit down on my bottom lip, not caring about the pain.

"Your situation remains unchanged." she stated. Her attempts at placating me were failing, miserably.

"Not inside my head." I nearly growled out. I was surprised. I didn't think any of it would effect me so much.

"Well that's your affair, Ciel. You do realise that I would have told you sooner or later. I'm tired now after all that." she yawned. She got up from the couch and proceeded towards the door. She placed a hand on the door-knob and turned towards me, smiling slightly, "Just know that I do want you to go for all the right reasons, as well as a few of the wrong ones."

She left me.

The door sighed closed behind her. I picked up the poker and began to beat at the fire. Sparks whirled upwards through the chimney. The smoke belowed around me, stinging my eyes and fouling my mouth. I beat the fire to death and dropped the poker into the grate. I stood back up, trembling and completely exhausted. I was alarmed by my own violence. I brushed at my clothes to rid myself of the dust and black smoke that gathered on my shoulders and torso.

Maybe I was being melodramatic?

I opened the door quietly and stepped out into the passageway. I was so glad it was dark. There was no sound, only that of the breathing house. I walked over to the front door and ignored Tanaka who stepped out of the shadows to see if I was alright. He must have overheard. But of course, he would have known already. He knew everything and anything. I pulled open the door and stepped out into the cold moonlight. I heard the bark of a fox and still the fiddler played.

The gravel crunched under my shoes as I made my way along the path. My mind was drawn to the music and I cut across the path and wandered down by the lake. The water had been turned silver thanks to the moon. The moon was the only source of light. It was a little frosty too, and when I breathed out, a flurry of fog whirled around me. I made my way along the edge of the lake and through the trees and out the little gate which led to the outside world. I stepped through a pile of fallen leaves and found myself at a little crossroads by a small village. About eight or ten people were dancing and some were merely watching from the sidelines. It was an odd sight, especially for one such as myself. The fiddler stood by the edge of the road, moving his body to the sounds of the fiddle. From what I could tell, he was blind. The colour of his irises were very pale, indicating such. They saw nothing. He was very old too and overly skinny with a a little hump in his back. A dog lay by his feet. The fiddler stopped all of a sudden and felt around near his dog for his bottle of what I presumed was alcohol. He picked it up and took a long drink before placing it back down, and accidentally hitting his dog in the ribs in the process. The dog neither jumped nor batted an eyelid. It was probably used to it all by now.

Soft fingers plucked at the sleeve of my shirt, making me whirl around with a gasp.

Sebastian stood behind me. His lips were upturned into a small, gentle smile and his eyes were warm and lulling.

"W-what are you doing here?"

He breathed a laugh.

Damn heart.

"I followed you."

"You followed me?" I repeated, "Can I ask why?" I demanded, glaring up at him.

"I wanted to see where you were going. I hope you don't mind?" he smirked, before grabbing my waist and pulling me back into the trees.

"What are you-"

"What were you doing running off like that?" he ordered of me as I backed up into the cold bark of a tree.

"Because I wanted to." I hissed, not liking how he was closing in on me, "Besides, why do you want to know?"

I hated the fact that I was coming off as an arrogant brat.

"Because... because I... you'll catch a death out here."

I sighed as I scraped my nails along the bark.

"I suppose it can't be helped. Here. Take this." he took of his black trench coat and took a step froward in order to wrap it around my shoulders.

"Huh, you think I'm the one who's going to catch his death. Look at you." I retorted, eyeing his body up and down, "You're only wearing a measly shirt for crying out loud."

"If the future head of the house were to get sick and I did nothing to prevent it, then what kind of butler would I be?"

I stared at him evenly, "I suppose..."

"Now, take this." he held a small bottle out to me.

"Where did that come from? And have you been drinking on the job?" I asked, unsure of where he had hidden it all this time and feeling mortified if he had begun to drink already.

"Just take a drink. And no, I haven't drunk, yet."

"Ugh. And no thanks. I'd rather not."

"Oh Ciel, honestly. Just wipe it and have a drink. It's not like it will kill you."

"What happened to the 'What kind of butler would I be?' nonsense you always go on about?" I took a handkerchief from within my breast pocket and wiped the lip of the bottle. Like he said, it wouldn't kill me. He watched me with a certain amusement while I slowly lifted the bottle to my lips, "Wait. Before I drink this, I want to know what it is."

"It's nice. Just take my word. And please do not let the germs worry you. Have a drink for old time's sake. We share the same germs, right?" he asked, trying to retain his smile so it didn't spread from ear to ear as it so wished to.

"God knows where you've been." I muttered under my breath before taking a mouthful and nearly spitting it back out again. I refrained from doing so. I didn't want to give him the satisfaction. The liquid scorched my throat, like fire rushing down to my stomach.

"Ciel?"

"Yes?" I asked, trying to ignore the need to vomit.

"There was a reason why I followed you out here."

I paused a moment to look him in the eye, "Go... go on."

"I wanted to tell you something."

I huffed, letting him know to just get on with it.

"I'm enlisting tomorrow."

I stared at him, probably in the biggest state of shock I've ever been in my life.

Sebastian... enlisting... tomorrow? That means...

"You can't be serious?!" I blurted out, suddenly feeling a pain deep within my chest.

He nodded and took the drink from my hands. He all but gulped the liquid before meeting my glare.

"Why?" I demanded.

"Cash."

"Cash? I don't understand..." I looked at him as if he had gone mad, "You know Sebastian, if it was cash you wanted, you should have just come to me and asked. I wouldn't have-"

He laughed.

"What's so funny?"

"I wasn't going to ask you for money, Ciel."

"Then I want you to explain to me why you have to go to _war_ while you could just stay _here_ and earn."

He continued to laugh and shoved the drink in my hand. I took it and drank, not caring that it burned my throat.

"You better explain." I warned with a pointed finger and stepped past him and out onto the road again.

His lips curled upwards into his signiture quirky grin as he followed close behind me.

"I didn't know you cared so much." he whispered into my ear, making me jump out of my skin.

Yes, thank God it was dark or he'd never let me live it down. My cheeks were flaming red and heating up embarrassingly.

"Are you sure you hadn't drank before coming out here?" I hissed as he placed his hands on my shoulders so as to bring me to a stand-still.

He hummed a reply and I could feel his smile against my neck. Yes, my _neck_. It was cold outside but I felt like it was suddenly the warmest day of the year.

Damn heart, again.

"Lightweight."

Honestly, he was drunk from just those few gulps of... whatever the hell was in the bottle. Whatever it was, he had drunk most of it as there were only a drops left.

"Idiot."

"Me the idiot?" He asked, resting his chin on my shoulder, "How am I... the idiot?"

"You just are."

"I think you are." He whispered back while chuckling at the pout on my face, "But I'm curious. What else do you think I am?"

"Believe me, you don't want to know." I replied back and attempted to take a step forward before his arms wrapped around my waist and pulled me back.

"I do want to know."

My breathing hitched as I turned around to face him. I'm sure my cheeks flushed when I realised just how close we were. I only came to his collar bone.

"Go on." he smirked. His eyes gleamed in the moonlight. They seemed much brighter than usual.

The only coherent thought running through my mind at that point was, _"Please, God, kill me. Kill me."_

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**That's it for chapter 9. Don't forget to review and check out the poll for this story. It's important. I hope you all enjoyed and make sure to let me know what you think. Feedback is much appreciate. **

**Ugh, school tomorrow *cries* but alteast I don't have exams now... until June! Dun dun du~~~n! Yeah I kinda can't wait to get back into the classroom. I think it's because I spent a week and a half sitting in the hall, in the same chair, at the same desk, doing crappy exams. I might get some results tomorrow so I'm not really looking forward to those...**

**Thanks for taking the time to read this chapter and I hope you all enjoyed it! XD**


	10. Mon Sebastian, Ivre

**Did you know that there was actually a real man named Sebastian Michaelis?! Okay, he spelt his name as ****Sébastien Michaëlis** but still! He lived during the late 16th and early 17th century and became involved in a case of demonic possession in 1610... YANA TOBOSA, I FUCKING LOVE YOU! *Mind = Blown*

**Another update! Woo hoo! So yeah, here's chapter 10 for you all! I'd like to say a big thank you to those of you who have reviewed so far. You're all awesomesauce! *hugs***

**Okay, so I have a few things to say. If you want, you can skip on and begin the chapter but I think you might want to hear this (especially if you're an animal lover). I'm going to try and remain calm about this instead of going off on a curse-filled rant like I really want to. I'm sure you have all heard of the fast-food chain called KFC, right? And maybe a good few of you know what I'm going to talk about. If you love animals, no matter what species they are, I advise you to boycott KFC. KFC do not care about animal rights. How they treat chickens before going to slaughter is absolutely atrocious. I don't understand how humans can be cruel to such defenseless creatures. All animals on this planet feel pain and despair. We, too, are animals, and how would you feel being thrown forcefully at a wall and having your nose broken off? Or maybe your head twisted off for that matter? I'm sure you can all imagine how utterly painful and disgusting that would be. Yet, in the year 2013, this is happening everywhere. And you know what? They don't serve real chicken. They're genetically modified, but still living creatures. It is animal cruelty in it's most disgusting form. That's why, if you're a loyal customer or just like to eat there once in a while, I suggest that you really think before ordering anything from that place. Honestly, you don't know what you're eating. People have found whole chicken brains in their meals. KFC say that they are "just kidneys". From the photos, you can see that they are clearly brains (those who studied Biology would know!). I myself, used to eat at KFC. If I was ever in town and was hungry, I would go there. But from what videos I have seen and the pictures... it has turned my stomach. I adore animals and can't stand seeing an animal being abused. It makes me feel violently ill to think that people are so numb in the brain to kick or punch a poor creature that can't stand up for itself. But of course, big companies like KFC do not care for how animals feel. They only care about profit and so will even go so far as to genetically modify chickens so as to get as much meat off them as possible, even if it means feeding the chickens through tubes in their stomachs and modifying them so that they have no feet, head and as little bone structure as possible. No animal, no matter the species, should suffer. This is happening in America and England for certain. To KFC, chicken is chicken. 100% chicken breast? Nah. 100% chicken is what you get. Especially in processed chicken products. The whole chicken is used. Yes, the WHOLE chicken. McDonald's is the same. Look, if a Big Mac and fries goes for 100 days without being eaten by bacteria, than why should we eat it if bacteria even avoids it? From day 1 to day 100 (and so on), McDonald's food stays the same. It does not change in colour and does not go mouldy like normal, healthy food would. Do you really want to eat "food" that even bacteria won't eat? KFC has had to change it's name because they can't use the word 'chicken' in it or in its menus because they don't even use real chickens. I'm pretty sure McDonald's deals with chickens the same way as KFC. America, the greatest nation on earth? Pfft. England, the greatest country in the world? Ha! How can that be so when we don't even see our own faults as human beings? Why do humans pick on animals? Because animals can't talk? Because animals can't say 'stop' or fight back? No, it's because humans are power driven and big corporations and individuals alike don't give two flying f**ks as long as they are getting their money and feel more powerful than other species. Now I'm not stating that all humans are like that. There are sane people in the world. But some people just like to remind creatures where they stand in the food chain. So please, my lovely readers, _please_ boycott KFC (and you can even boycott McDonald's! You'll be more better off health wise). What they do to those poor chickens is horrendous. Watching a video of employees working in a factory in West Virginia (USA) made me feel sick. And guess what? That same factory won the "Best Supplier of the Year Award" by KFC. How about that, hey? That just goes to show how they don't give a damn about anything other than making money, even if it means beating the chickens into the slaughter house. You can help by boycotting the fast-food company. If you want to eat REAL chicken, go to the local butcher, where you'll be guranteed 100% quality chicken breast. Butcher's know what farms their meats come from. The people at cash registers in KFC and McDonald's haven't a f**king clue where the meat comes from as long as it is bought and they get profit. Or maybe they do know what's happening behind scene? Go to a butcher's instead. Not only will you be supporting local jobs, but you'll know what you're eating too. Besides, chicken tastes much better if it has had a good, happy life out in pastures, instead of being cooped up in tiny cages being miserable and force fed. This is 2013! Cruelty like this should be a thing of the past. Not a thing of the present. And it certainly shouldn't be a thing of the future. Okay, I'm going to stop now or else I'll keep ranting. But please, please, _please_ THINK before entering a fast-food place. I'm not trying to scare you off eating chicken or any other meat for that matter. I admit that I love chicken, but I don't like how cruelly they are treated before-hand. I'm just saying that you should buy your meat from a butcher's. And that goes for ALL meats. Keep small jobs going instead of feeding these nasty fast-food chains like KFC and McDonald's who promote obesity and cruelty to animals. I'm not saying that you should convert to being a vegan and cut meat out of your diet. I personally don't like red meat as I think it's disgusting. The only meat I consume is chicken so I doubt I'm going to cut it out of my diet anytime soon. I'm just saying that you should have a serious think about what happens to those chickens in the factories just so you can have your chicken strip meal. **

**And on that very optimistic note (that's sarcasm by the way... I had to point it out, just incase), you can finally get on with reading the damn chapter. YAY! Also, I have decided to just go ahead and make this a nice, fluffy, lovely yaoi :) You're welcome haha I just realised that I'm procrastinating right now when I should be doing my homework... naaaahhhhhh! I'll do that later... Pffft!**

**As always, I own nothing. I make no money from this. It's just a fan story. If I happened to own Kuroshitsuji... well, let's just say that Sebastian and Ciel wouldn't be able to walk for a week... especially Ciel... if you know what I mean! Yeeeaaahhhhh! **

**Enjoy my beautiful readers and make sure you review!**

* * *

**How Many Miles to Babylon?**

**Kuroshitsuji / How Many Miles to Babylon?**

**Chapter X: Mon Sebastian, Ivre**

**xMiss Shizaya Michaelisx**

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Damn.

Ciel, what have you gotten yourself into?

He smirked down at me, eyes grinning smugly, while his hands were still clasped at the small of my back. Let us not forget that we were standing in full view of those gathered around the old fiddle player. They paid no mind though, as they danced around him as if performing some sort of ritual, and he the fire. Sudden laughter errupted from a couple who staggered away from the group, clearly drunk. I couldn't exactly understand what they were saying. It was barely comprehensible. The woman was grinning and shushing her lover, I presume, as he reached out after her while she stumbled backwards. Whatever it was though, it was obviously amusing to them. The woman's overly high squeal of delight pierced my ears as her partner practically swung her around in his arms. I remember thanking the drunk woman, sarcastically of course in my mind, that I was grateful for the oncoming tinnitus attack.

"I'm waiting." he whispered merrily with a toothy smile, but I barely heard him over the fiddle and laughter. The softest little hiccup caught my attention and I'm sure I glared up at him in response.

"You're drunk." I ground out.

Another hiccup.

"I am _not_." he exclaimed, looking as if my accusation offended him greatly. He was rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet, swaying me with him.

"Yes. You. Are."

He shook his head with a chuckle, determined to be the victor in the little disagreement, "You're wrong."

I copied his movements mockingly and he laughed and tilted his head back, exposing his pale neck, "I think _you're_ wrong." I muttered bluntly while reaching my hands behind my back to pry his cold fingers from one another so as to release myself from his... embrace? I wonder now if it could be called that.

"You're avoiding the question." he noted and his fingers tightened and jolted me forwards.

"Am not."

"You are." he whispered back determindly.

I stood there glaring up at him, heart pounding. I felt as if my insides were twisting mercilessly as I inwardly panicked.

"I think... I think you're a lightweight drunk with a nasty h-habit... who... who happens to be one _hell_ of a butler."

He raised a sharp, black brow and grinned. If I couldn't convince myself that that was all I thought of him, then I seriously doubted that he was convinced either.

He leaned forward slowly, his eyes smiling slyly down at me. His form shadowed my face from the moonlight, "Is that all?"

At this point, I wasn't really taking note of how composed my face was. From the look in his eye and smirk on his lips, I could tell that my acting skills hadn't improved. He seemed to tower over me while I felt myself cowering backwards. Unfortunately, his hands had now unclasped, only to grip my hips instead.

"Seeing as we, or you, I should say, are sharing such deep,_ riveting_ thoughts about me, then I shall do the same." he declared theatrically with a hiccup, making me laugh and shake my head. He laughed with me, swaying us both gently against the wind, "Do you _really_ want to know what I think?" he asked, his crooked smile enough to give me palpitations.

"Yes."

"Alright, I'll tell you. For such a serious person, you're quite nonsensical. You're-"

"You're telling me my existence makes no sense?" I asked him bluntly.

"Have I mentioned that you are int-interruptive?"

"... Possibly."

"You're overly strict and proud." he stated, poking me in the chest twice. It came out just a little slurred, "You have a comp-" hiccup, "competitive nature." I opened my mouth to deny the accusation but he cut me off, "Don't deny it... No, stop. Shhh!" he clashed his forehead with mine, as if that was going to shut me up, "See? You're interruptive, Phantomhive. You dislike losing to others. Therefore, you insist on additional rounds" hiccup, "until you are found to be the prominant vi-victor. Should I remind you of the hunting contest between yourself and your aunt Francis not so long ago?"

"Hold on. When have I ever been strict?"

The 'are you actually serious?' look he gave me said it all, and quite frankly, I didn't blame him.

Like I have said before; who ever said I was an angel when I was younger?

"But even with _all_ those flaws," he whispered, smiling down at me to let me know he was only 'taking the piss'. That was only one of the many phrases he had taught me over the years, "I think you're," hiccup, "pretty swell."

I leaned back, unable to hide the amused grin on my face, "You think I'm_ pretty swell_?"

"I do." he smirked back.

"What an odd thing to say." I noted, but it was barely audible seeing as the laughter only seemed to increase in volume behind me.

I was pretty much confused at that point. I'm sure my face portrayed that confusion ever so precisely.

"Is... is that all you think?" I prompted hesitantly, fully aware of the fact that he was pulling me back into the cover of the trees.

He looked past me to the drunk, giddy people still dancing around the old man and his dog. Sebastian's eyes were the text book definition of michevious. When we were enshrouded by darkness, he spun me out from his arms and pushed me back up against the rough bark of a tree. I let out a gasp as he filled the space between us.

"Are you scared?" he asked, whispering into my ear like a sly spider spinning its web. His lips were surprisingly soft as they graced down my neck.

I involuntarily arched my head backwards, allowing him access, "Should I be?" I whispered up to the sky. A white, faint fog whirled up into the cold air from my mouth.

His breath ghosted across my skin as he chuckled.

I grappled at the rough bark when he planted feather-like kisses along my jaw. I could feel myself trembling. I wasn't scared... Actually, no. I was terrified. But not of him. The sensations were foreign to me. I had never recieved attention of that calibre.

His hands roamed upwards along my arms as he began to place harsher, stronger kisses against my neck. Then he began to suck. I was alarmed by the spontaneous moan that errupted from deep within my throat. He pulled away quickly and eyed the spot where his lips had just been seconds ago.

"What?" I demanded, pouting at the lack of contact.

His eyes were trained on that spot and his lips curled upwards into a smirk of triumph.

"Nothing's wrong." he replied, before cupping my warming cheeks in his hands.

I closed my eyes tightly, embarrassed by how my cheeks flamed red.

That was the moment I felt his lips softly press against mine. I remember my mouth going dry as I froze.

My first kiss... with a man... seven years my senior... a butler no less... and drunk...

That thought raced around in my mind as his lips moved against mine. His thumbs stroked my cheeks, as if stroking fragile china. Somehow, in my state of shock, I managed to respond. I had never kissed anyone before. I hadn't the slightest idea of how to go about doing so.

He smiled against my lips, as if reading my thoughts.

That's when he decided to be little more adventurous. I felt his tongue slide along my bottom lip, and I instinctively allowed him access to the now salivating, warm cavern. My own tongue eagerly met his and a dance ensued between the two muscles. His hands had left my cheeks at this point. Instead, his left arm snaked around my waist, pulling me into him while his right hand clamped down on the back of my head, forcing me closer than was possible. My own hands gripped at his waistcoat as our lips moved as one. It sent a tingle down my spine when he would bite my bottom lip and smirk, no doubt loving how co-operative I was with his desires.

My lungs burned for oxygen and I reluctantly pulled away. His lips hovered just centimentres from my own and I flushed when I caught sight of the single, thin string of saliva connecting us. I immediately looked away, anyhwere but him. He was smirking subtly, no doubt delighting in how he could make me blush with just one look.

The tips of my fingers were numb as they coiled around his waistcoat.

"Perhaps we should go back now." he advised, placing a sickly sweet, lingering kiss on the corner of my lips.

I had completely forgotten my reason for escaping the house.

Oh yes, it had something to do with my mother.

My mother...

My eyes widened frantically.

If ever she were to find out... She would have Sebastian's heart on a platter.

"What's wrong? Ciel, are you alright?" his own eyes widened in alarm.

"My... my mother... What if she were to find out?"

"Shhh." he cooed, pulling me into an embrace, "She won't find out."

"Are we talking about the same person?" I demanded, though my voice was muffled as my lips were pressed against his chest.

He laughed at me while he stroked my hair, "Of course we are. But just don't show your neck."

I pulled back from his chest and glanced up at him, "Why?"

"Please trust me on this."

And so we walked back to the manor, hand in hand. It was requested by Sebastian, and I had blushed and nodded my agreement. He had buttoned his coat and made sure its collar stood upwards so as to hide my neck. I still hadn't a clue as to why he was so insistant about that. When the manor came into view, our hands disconnected, ever wary of unwanted spying eyes.

It was the middle of the night and so my parents were long gone to sleep. My mother was never awake past one in the morning. My father always retired before her.

He led me through the pantry and along the hallway. I was surprised he could walk in a straight line.

He was, after all, one_ hell_ of a butler.

We successfully reached the top of the staircase and managed to enter my bedroom without making a racket. When we entered the manor, we had taken off our shoes. If we had kept them on, the whole household would have awoken to see me and the butler sneak into the house. What would I have told my mother then?

He closed over the door and sighed softly when he heard the light 'click'. The fire was dwindling with not having been attended to. Sebastian quickly placed a few logs upon it. It rekindled instantly and sputtered with flying sparks. The room was sickingly warm, making me feel drousy. I immediately wandered over to my bed and clambered upon it. I felt too tired to dress in my nightwear.

"Ciel?"

I arched my back up from the bed, and enjoyed stretching along the sheets. I purred in satisfaction as I allowed my hands to feel the warmth of the blanket underneath me.

"Yes?" I managed, turning my head so as to look at him standing tall by the fire.

I was greeted with an expression that has never graced Sebastian's face before.

He was blushing.

After a moments silence, he quickly composed himself and his eyes hardened in determination. He stalked over to me and to be quite honest, I couldn't help but bite my lip as he climbed up on the bed and hovered over me, breath harsh and determined. His knees were planted either side of my hips and his hands rested by my head.

His lips possessed mine once more. They moved with desperation and eagerness, and I willingly obliged and allowed him to do what he wanted.

He lapped at my neck and I trembled when he bit down on a sensitive area, "Should I add more to the collection?" he pondered, more so to himself. His dark eyes glanced upward to meet my own. His voice was teasing as he trailed a kiss down the front of my throat.

"What collection?" I demanded as my hands clenched around fistfuls of blanket and I curled my toes at the sensation of his lips against my skin.

The only reply I recieved was the chuckle of a man who was no doubt willing to go beyond his brief.

To be honest, I didn't mind in the slightest.

* * *

**Short I know, but it's like, 2am and I have school tomorrow... which is technically today... I have to be up for 6am *cries* But I really wanted to update.**

**So what would you all like to see happen next? Let me know in a review :) Thanks for reading XD**


	11. A Rather Tragic Memory

**Hey everyone! Long-time no see, huh? How have you all been? Okay, for those of you who haven't visited my profile, I was sitting exams for the past week and a half and so over these past few months, I have been unable to update. I'm sorry about that but unfortunately, real life was my first priority. But now that I'm free, here's another update that's been a long time coming. I hope you all enjoy it. It's been a while since I've written for this story so I'm sorry if I'm a little rusty. I'm sure I'll get back into the swing of it soon.**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

**How Many Miles to Babylon?**

**Kuroshitsuji / How Many Miles to Babylon?**

**Chapter XI: A Rather Tragic Memory**

**xMiss Shizaya Michaelisx**

* * *

"Are you really going to enlist tomorrow?"

I closed my eyes as soon as the words escaped me, embarrassed by how shaky they flowed from my lips, like spotted leaves fluctuating on the wind.

His unblinking scarlet eyes gazed up at the ceiling. I watched him from my place by his side. My left arm had wound its way to lounge lazily across his chest. My feet were tangled in the sheets. My right hand played with his hair while my elbow supported my near non-existent weight. His own hands had found my hips and I could feel his fingers splayed out across my skin, softly moving in tender strokes.

"Yes." he answered, somewhat sadly. He let out a deep breath as his eyes wandered back down to meet my own equally disappointed pair. His head nestled back into my favourite pillow, not that I minded, as it allowed me the perfect angle to stretch up and cover his lips with my own. I could sense his hesitancy by the way he flinched back. It took him a moment to realise that I was the one to initiate contact, and I could feel him smile gratefully as I planted small kisses to each corner of his mouth.

I'm not sure why I feel the need to write down this rather tragic memory. Maybe to relive the moments I will never get back or hope to see happen ever again?

"You don't need to go." I urged in a pleading whisper against his pale skin, trailing hot, desperate kisses up along his cheek to his temple, "Stay... Sebastian, stay. Please." I could feel my emotions override as I forced myself closer to him than was physically possible. I knew I probably sounded desperate, but I honestly couldn't have cared less.

He had become the most important person in my life, and I knew the person I had become would die if I had to let him go.

I could hear him gulp as he continued to caress my skin silently, "Sebastian," I hissed at him. The growing frustration within me caused my eyes to blur, "say something for God's sake." I demanded through clenched teeth. I could feel my chest tighten and it was suddenly hard to breath.

His ministrations ceased and I could feel his chest rise and deflate as he let out an exhausted sigh, "Ciel…" he began, touching my cheek lightly with the back of his fingers, "Cash, Ciel. That's what's driving me to go."

I remember my eyes narrowing in disbelief. Had he not listened to a single word I said?

I pushed myself up off his chest, "Didn't I already tell you that if you needed cash, all you had to do was ask."

A small smile graced his lips. The look in his eyes told me that he knew more about the world than I did.

He reached up and planted a small kiss on the tip of my nose, "You will just have to forgive me for this."

That was all his said on the subject before he lifted his head up ever so slightly from the pillow to capture my lips with his own. His mouth against mine felt warm and welcoming, bordering on hot as I pressed back into the kiss. His grip on my waist tightened and pulled me closer against him. I slid my hands down his neck to grip onto his strong arms and leaned up closer to him for a better taste. One of his hands then clasped around the nape of my neck in order to deepen the kiss. His tongue had skimmed across my bottom lip and I hesitantly complied with his wishes.

Good things always come to an end.

We lay on the bed surrounded by an air of heavy, crushing silence.

I knew it must have been early morning by how the shade of the drapes had a dark blue hue to them. It was possibly an hour later before either of us spoke.

"I too, will go tomorrow."

"To enlist?"

"Yes."

Sebastian remained silent before speaking once again, "I'd much rather you didn't."

"Why so?" I demanded.

"What if something happened to you? What if you die?"

"What if _you_ die?" I shot back at him.

"Good point." he replied reluctantly.

"My mother says my father's a cheat."

"So?"

"What do you mean 'so'?"

"How does that affect you?"

I thought about it for a moment, "I… suppose it affects me in a lot ways."

"Do you think of him as a lesser man?" the butler inquired, an exquisite brow raising up in question.

"Not particularly."

"Do you love him any less?"

"Not at all."

Sebastian laughed.

"What are you laughing at?"

"You're still quite blind, I see."

I hated it when he would beat around the bush.

"Blind to what?"

"Blind to the woman you call mother."

I lay in bed too long the next morning after a maid had brought in the hot water in a brass can and pulled open the drapes. Sebastian had excused himself a few hours beforehand. It took me a long time before I opened my eyes to the blinding light streaming in from the windows. The day was too bright for me. A suitcase lay at the foot of my bed, opened and ready to be of use. The problem of what to put in the suitcase when heading for war was too great to be grappled with. I eventually got up from my bed and fixed my hair and face for the day. I stared back at myself in the mirror, looking remarkably well and offensively young. That was when I caught site of darkened patches of skin on my neck. I then realised what Sebastian's little _collection_ was.

_"Just don't show your neck."_

He had warned me the night before.

_"Why?"_

_"Please trust me on this."_

I sighed, knowing there was nothing I could do to help that. I could only hope the collar of my shirt would hide the patches.

The gong sounded from downstairs. It always reverberated throughout the house at breakfast, lunch and dinner time, and seemed to proclaim the end of the world rather than the next meal.

I could hear the maid Meyrin hum from outside my bedroom door as she busied herself with a broom. I could hear it tapping against the cold floor. She seemed somewhat late about her business.

I wriggled my tied tie into position at the front of my collar. Mother was always insistent on an immaculate appearance at the breakfast table.

Father and mother would be there, immaculate and perfect themselves. Father would elegantly bend his head downwards to read the morning paper while mother would read from one of her many poetry books while gracefully eating her cream-drenched porridge. Starch damask napkins will sit neatly across their laps, as per usual.

I believe they will both grow old immaculately, their mutual hatred of one another hidden from the rest of the world.

I often wondered if hatred was necessary where love was concerned, to keep the wheels of society driving forward.

I made sure I looked immaculate for my mother before I went downstairs.

The crisp white cloth covered the table. The room as usual had its air of formal gloom. My father was reading a catalogue while mother was surrounded by her own little delicacies; a comb of honey, her small silver teapot with china tea, her little pot of sugar for her porridge and a small knife with a curlicued handle for her apple.

My mother smiled as I entered the room, "Ah, my dear boy."

She held her face up for a kiss, but I felt repulsed by the thought of even touching her. It took me a long time before I realised what Sebastian had meant when he said I was blind to my mother. Now I understood.

I walked straight past her to the hot-plates on the sideboard. I inspected the food underneath the silver covers. Some of it looked destined to be eaten, while other foods were fated to be thrown to the pigs. It seemed that Bard had cooked breakfast that morning. I placed the covers back down. I didn't really feel like eating.

I made myself a cup of Earl Grey tea before sitting in my usual seat at the long dining table.

I stared out of the window to the garden as there seemed nothing else to do. I could see Finnian happily going about his business across the lawn.

"I do hope you're not sulking."

I heard my fingers click as I clenched my fists under the table.

"Why should I sulk?" I replied, offering her a forced smile.

I knew by the stillness of my father that he was listening.

"You know, it's childish to sulk." she retorted.

"What better advice than to follow your own."

The words rushed from my mouth before I had time to think.

Something in her eyes changed. It was almost as if the black of her eyes narrowed, making me feel as if I were a target to be shot at.

Oh, the irony.

My father had frozen behind his catalogue.

I picked up the tea spoon from the little saucer in front of me and stirred my tea.

"Aren't you eating?" she questioned eventually.

"No."

"Why not?"

There was a touch of anger in her voice.

"I'm not hungry."

"Perhaps you are ill?" she suggested, "But I do believe you are sulking. You used to sulk quite often as a little boy. It's such an unpleasant habit."

"I'm not sulking." I ground out.

"Then why aren't you eating?" she demanded.

I could hear my father stir uncomfortably behind his catalogue.

"I have told you, I'm not hungry."

"Well," started my mother as she poured herself a cup of tea from her own silver pot, "I'll butter you some toast, darling, with a little bit of my special honey. It's really delicious."

"How often do I have to tell you that I'm not hungry?"

"Rachel, he's not hungry."

The look in my father's eyes seemed to advise my mother to drop the subject of getting me to eat, when clearly I didn't desire any food.

My mother's lips tightened into a straight line.

My father's eyes immediately softened as they met mine, "My boy, we need to talk about the hunt-"

"There's no need."

"There's no need?" he repeated.

"That's right. Considering I won't be here, I don't think it's necessary."

My father straightened in his chair, his eyes widening, "What do you mean you won't be here?"

"I suppose I'll be heading for Belgium by then."

"There you are." said mother, "I told you he was sulking. But, dear boy, you don't need to go before the opening meet."

"Today."

"Today?" the shrill of her voice reverberated around the room. She was very angry.

"Yes. I'm going today so if you'll excuse me…"

"Don't you think you're treating us a little unfairly?"

I couldn't help but laugh at her, "Mother, you confuse me. Last night you said you wanted me to join the army. Today I join the army. I don't understand why you're complaining."

"You don't have to go today." my father offered. He seemed, somewhat, in a state of shock.

"The sooner the better." I muttered under my breath as I got up from my seat. I met my father's eyes. The little bit of life that had been in them seemed to slowly vanish, "You know, father, I had thought of just getting up and going. Crack of dawn, something like that, but I thought better of it."

My mother gestured helplessly with her hands, "If you must, you must."

"Father, I'll catch the train to London. I'll go and pack."

"Such fuss."

In spite of the petulance of her words, I was conscious of a radiance coming from her, a feeling of triumph.

"Vincent, we'll send him up in the motor."

"No. I would much rather just catch the train. I'm sorry, but I'm afraid I shall have to ask you for money, father."

"By… by all means, son."

My father then picked up the morning newspaper and retired behind it. His hands were shaking.

"Might I say, you have been very thoughtless, Ciel. I will forgive you, however. Now, I shall pack your case for you."

She seemed all too eager when she said that.

She had gotten up from her seat and touched my cheek with her cold fingers. I swatted at them as I would a fly.

"I'll help you."

"I'm only bringing my tootbrush. That's all I need."

"How utterly absurd you are, Ciel."

"Indeed." I responded.

I turned on my heel and exited the dining room. I closed the double doors behind me and placed my ear against one of them.

An air of silence filled the room before I heard my mother retort.

"What a thoughtless boy for coming up with such a decision."

"Yes, and I wonder who helped him come to it, hm?" came my father's quick insinuating reply.

I could feel my heart pounding in my chest as I waited to hear what she had to say.

"If you want to say something, just say it."

"I just have to wonder, what else are you going to take away from me, Rachel?"

I almost jumped when my mother's bell-like laughter hit my ear. It was the only response she gave before I silently ascended the grand staircase.

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**I hope you all enjoyed chapter 11. If you did, make sure to let me know in a review as they help inspire me to continue. Also, I just want to ask, is everyone in character? I know Rachel and Vincent are kind of different in this story but what about Sebastian and Ciel? Are they okay or is there anything I can do to improve their characterisation? If you have any advice, by all means share it with me. I'm really happy and honoured to be given advice on how to improve my stories so feel free to do so if you wish to share anything. Another thing, is there any Kuroshitsuji character that you really want to show up in this story? If you have any suggestions, please let me know. Thanks again for stopping by and reading chapter 11. Thank you! XD**


	12. Off To War

**Did you guys enjoy chapter 11? Good! Because here is chapter 12. Thank you to everyone who has reviewed already. It's much appreciated!**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

**How Many Miles to Babylon?**

**Kuroshitsuji / How Many Miles to Babylon?**

**Chapter XII: Off To War**

**xMiss Shizaya Michaelisx**

* * *

I put my toothbrush and some underclothes into the small brown leather case that lay at the foot of my bed. I suppose my father would have the furniture covered over with white sheets and moth-balls placed in all the drawers and in the tall mahogany press. Perhaps they would forget to open the window. After a while, anonymity would take over. That would be right. If I ever entered that room again, I would be a different person.

The door opened and father came in. He looked at me before speaking, "Your grandfather was a soldier. I can't say it got him anywhere."

I could only hum in response.

"I have to go out now." he said.

I nodded towards him while closing over my leather case. He held a bundle of notes out towards me.

"I have no choice. Something has come up."

I took a step forward, "It's okay, father."

"I'm afraid this is all I have about the place, but I will send you more."

"Thank you."

I took the money carefully from his hands and found that I didn't know what to do with it.

"Ciel, never let yourself go short. If there's anything you want…"

"Thank you."

I stood there awkwardly with the notes pressed against my palm. They were crinkled and cold.

At the time, I wasn't sure what else to say.

I stared at the pattern on my duvet, "You… you know why I have to go…"

"I know." he replied. I looked over to him. The look in his eyes were sympathetic, like he knew more than he let on, "I know, son. Just know that she will want to say goodbye on her own. I insist that you are kind to her."

"Yes."

My father cleared his throat, "Now you put that money away, son, or you will lose it."

I pushed the notes into my coat pocket for safe keeping.

My father's hands fluttered up to the pockets on his waistcoat and finding what he was looking for, he pulled out his gold watch from his right pocket, "I don't believe sentimentality suits either of us, Ciel. But here, this was my father's. You know, Balaclava and all that nonsense. Take it."

I reached out for it hesitantly, unsure whether to take something so precious away from him.

"Ciel, take it for God's sake. Your grandfather was a great horseman. Some called him a giant. I've no doubt that he was a rotten soldier. But at least he died comfortably in his bed. Now it's yours. I don't need a watch these days. The house is full of the damn things. Ticking everywhere. Take it and put it away."

I took the watch from his hand, aware of how warm it was. It contained the warmth of his body. I put it into my pocket that contained the money.

"Are you packed?"

"Yes. I've just a toothbrush. There's no point…"

"Quite."

"It's a pity about the opening meet, don't you think?"

"Yes. It will be a good one next year." he assured me. Although he didn't look convinced himself.

All I could do was offer him a small smile. I bent down and picked up my case. I held out my hand to him.

"Goodbye, I suppose."

He shook it.

"Goodbye, son. Don't, eh, indulge in too much foolishness." he advised, a small smirk playing on his lips.

I suddenly found it very hard to meet his eyes.

"I'll write, father."

"Yes. Forgive me for not coming down. Be kind to her, Ciel, when you say goodbye."

"I will."

I left him standing there.

My mother was standing in the drawing-room waiting for me. As soon as heard the creak of the door, she twirled around to me on the spot, making her skirts fan out around her. She threw out her arms in a splendidly theatrical gesture as she smiled in greeting. I silently walked towards her. The room seemed about a mile long. Her hands flew outwards as I reached her, like two dainty little birds fluttering about my neck. She pulled my face down to hers and I had no choice but to kiss one cheek and then the other. My hands then reached up to unfasten hers. I couldn't help but notice that her eyes were the most triumphant royal blue.

"My darling, you will come to see us in your uniform, won't you?" she asked, running a hand down along my cheek.

"There's just one thing I must say before I go, mother."

"Yes, Ciel, what is it?"

"It's about what you said last night."

She smiled at me expectantly.

"I'll never think less of him, no matter what you say."

It took her a second to register what I meant before the familiar sound of chiming laughter echoed around me.

"Run along, Ciel. You'll miss your train."

I abruptly turned on my heel and went towards the door. The journey was not so long that way. She called after me.

"Write to me, Ciel. Do write. I'll be most looking forward to your letters."

Without another word I left the drawing-room.

Out in the hall the servants gathered around me. The word of my leaving had travelled quickly throughout the house. The chef, Bard, gave me a reassuring pat on the back while the gardener, Finnian, sobbed hysterically and the maid, Meyrin, clutched onto Finnian as she too, was sobbing.

I couldn't help but sigh at them.

The old butler, Tanaka, stood off to the side. His presence seemed to demand my attention, and I walked over to him after giving Finnian an awkward pat on the head to sooth him.

I had a lot of respect for the old butler. Everyone did. I guess you could say that I saw him as a grandfather figure, considering I never knew my real grandfather.

The man slowly placed both of his gloved hands atop my shoulders and gave them a gentle squeeze. His old eyes held a certain sadness which told me that he and I both knew the consequences of going to war, and how likely death would be my undoing. But the smile he gave me helped rid me of any second thoughts or doubts.

"I'll see you all at Christmas." was all I could think of to say as I closed the front door behind me. I ran down the steps and got into the motor. I rolled down the window so I could take in the smell of the turf smoke and catch a glimpse of the two swans rocking gently on the lake.

_How many miles to Babylon?_

I admit it was a strange thought for such a moment.

_Four score and ten, sir._

It was the only thing flowing through my mind. It was the strange bumpy rhyme I hadn't heard for years.

_Will I get there by candlelight? _

The red and orange leaves danced in the breeze as the car drove down the driveway.

_Yes and back again, sir. _

The next six weeks were spent on the shores of Dover, learning to be a soldier. It was like some mad, torturous children's game, except the rules had to be taken seriously, or else. Sebastian had been right when he said they would make me an officer. He had said it just before he left my room that morning. I attempted to grow some facial hair in order to hide my soft child-like mouth, or perhaps merely to raise a smile on my lips every time I confronted myself in the mirror. As I predicted, it didn't quite suit me and so I rid myself of the dark moustache that had adorned my upper-lip.

Nothing memorable happened until the first of December when Major Randall sent for me and told me that I would be leaving for the front line the next morning with him. He had then stared at me for a long time across his polished desk. Rather, he was glaring at me, for reasons I wasn't quite sure, considering I had never met the man before then. All I could really do was stare back. From his appearance, I could tell he was a cold man. The light reflected off his glasses that sat upon his pointed nose. His grey eyes seemed to match his grey hair, except, I noticed they had a tint of blue to them. His long hair was held back by a ribbon of some sort. I didn't care to notice the colour of said ribbon. The texture of his face reminded me of well cared for leather. He looked like a man who knew everything about self-control.

"It is my lot, Mr. Phantomhove," he spoke at last, "to have been landed with the biggest bunch of incompetents I have come across in my life. Many are illiterate peasants, rascals and schoolboys. However, be warned that I intend to make soldiers of you."

It was nothing new. He had lectured us at least once a week for the whole six weeks we had been there. I knew better than to speak, though.

"Parade your men at nine sharp."

"Yes, sir."

I wasn't quite sure if I was dismissed or not. I watched him as he wrote something on a piece of paper. He then looked up to me again, his glasses glinting in the light.

"You're from London, correct?"

"Yes, sir."

"I believe we'll be picking up another bunch of incompetents there. You can have a couple of hours of to go see your family before we leave if you want."

"Thank you, sir, but I'd rather not."

"Suit yourself."

He wrote something else on the paper.

"You can go now."

"Thank you, sir."

As I grasped the handle of the door, he called my name.

"Mr. Phantomhive."

"Yes, sir?"

"Mix."

"Mix, sir?"

"Did I stutter, Mr. Phantomhive?" he asked of me.

"No, sir."

"You know, I watch you. I get the impression that you think you are better than everyone else."

I wasn't sure how to answer him.

"I… I don't believe I do, sir."

"No? Then why don't you mix then?"

"I hadn't really thought about it, sir."

To be honest, I wasn't a very sociable person. I liked to keep to myself. My mother often called me a wall-flower at social gatherings. And considering that Sebastian was at another camp, I had no one to converse with.

"Well you should talk to them. Mingle with the group."

"I don't know what to say, sir."

"The problem with war, Mr. Phantomhive, is that you get the wrong types joining up."

"If you're dissatisfied in any way, I'm sorry, sir. I would be quite happy in the ranks."

"Well that's a damn stupid thing to say."

He tore up the paper in front of him and tossed it into a nearby metal basket. I felt as if he were making some personal comment as he did so.

"Just get your act together and mix with the others. You can go now. Parade at nine and do not forget what I said."

I could feel small beads of sweat form at my hair line and trickle down my temples. I shut the door behind me and noticed the N.C.O on duty grin at me. I couldn't help but swallow when I saw his odd, pointed teeth. I took my handkerchief from my pocket and dabbed at my forehead. He then winked. I gave him a nod in return, with what I hoped was dignity.

Exiting the building, I took in a mouthful of much needed fresh air. The cold breeze was welcoming, considering I felt like I had just been in a furnace while conversing with Major Randall.

That was when I saw him, leaning against the wall of the opposite building, smirking at me. I must say, I felt as if my heart had just leapt from my chest. Soon enough, he was walking over to me, while I stood frozen as if I were planted to the spot.

"Close your mouth, Ciel, or you'll catch flies."

His fingers then took hold of my chin and lifted it up in order to close my mouth for me.

"I… I thought you were at another camp."

"I was transferred here this morning. I tried to find you." he replied. His eyes were darting from one direction to another, always wary of unwanted, spying eyes, "Come with me." he whispered, before he turned his back on me and headed in the opposite direction.

I quickly followed.

"How have you been?" he asked as I caught up with him.

"Good. What about you?"

He looked around cautiously before spitting.

"Sebastian, that's disgusting."

"Isn't why we're here disgusting?"

I sighed at him.

We were soon nearing the peripheral of the large camp. The number of people as we walked to the outskirts were dwindling.

We soon came across an abandoned building specifically built for the camp. The building was not in use anymore for the mere reason that it was too far out from the core of the camp. There were no soldiers in sight.

"In here."

He held the door open as I walk through.

I was surrounded by grey. The large desk in the side-room now had a very thin layer of dust coating it. Chairs were placed randomly about the room and papers were spotted along the floor.

Strong arms wrapped around me from behind.

"You're not going to believe this, but I missed you." he whispered against my skin, and I could feel an amused smirk playing on his lips.

He could always make me smile.

"Well, you're in luck, because I actually missed you too." I whispered back and leaned my head back on his shoulder.

His chuckle flowed about the room as he began to plant kisses up along the back of my neck to my ear.

"I hated not being able to see you."

"Me too."

I found that I was being pushed towards the desk, and let out a breath as he abruptly turned me on my heel to face him. His right hand wrapped around my waist while his left hand cupped under right knee and lifted me up so that I was sitting on the dust coated desk.

I instantly wrapped my arms around his pale neck and pulled him down to steal a kiss, or two… or possibly three. I lost count.

He didn't mind as he complied with my wishes.

I felt as if I were finally feeling an ounce of normalcy, and so I clung to that normalcy.

A content sigh escaped him as he hugged me close. My arms wound around his thin, but well-built waist. I honestly didn't want to let him go.

Major Randall had given me a few hours off and so there was no way I was going to waste any of that time.

He had situated himself comfortably between my legs, but I couldn't help but feel like he wasn't close enough.

"We're off tomorrow." I whispered solemnly against his chest.

"I know."

We must have stayed like that for hours because the sun was slowly beginning to set behind the trees.

Lifting my face once more, he pressed his lips against mine.

We savoured that moment, knowing full well that we might never get a moment like it ever again.

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**Thank you everyone for reading chapter 12! Make sure to let me know what you think. I was actually getting blurry eyes while typing the last scene between Sebastian and Ciel. Too many SebaCiel feels! Thanks again and make sure to review! XD**


	13. The First Casualty

**You guys ready for an update?**

**There is a warning for this chapter. There is a mention of something that readers may find upsetting or triggering (the word 'triggering' is a big hint). Hopefully it does not deter you from reading the rest of this chapter.**

**As always, I hope you enjoy!**

* * *

**How Many Miles to Babylon?**

**Kuroshitsuji / How Many Miles to Babylon?**

**Chapter XIII: The First Casualty**

**xMiss Shizaya Michaelisx**

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"Good luck." I called out after him as he walked away, hands shoved deep into his pockets, which might I add, was against the rules.

The orange pinkish haze of the setting sun was quickly seized by dark, thunderous-looking clouds. That was when the rain hit. The rain was like large drops that burst into a million icy fragments as they hit you clear in the face.

I watched as he began to run, which I'm sure, was also against the rules.

Only run when attacking the enemy, and then make sure you are running towards him and not any other damn inefficient way, or you were shot dead by one of your very own standing on guard, whose job it is to shoot those who retreat back to their own trench. That sort of death is reserved for those who are too cowardly to face the enemy.

At the corner of a building not far off, he stopped and turned back to face me.

I felt a pang in my chest as I watched him standing in the rain.

He was completely soaked from head to toe. His green coat was drenched and had darkened as a result. Of what little I could see of his shirt, it clung to his skin and small droplets fell from his cuffs. His hair stuck to his shining forehead and glossy cheeks, like black veins crawling along his skin. His cheeks had a faint blush to them due to the cold and harsh rain.

But it was his expression that had melted me to the very spot where I stood. The slight curve of his lips and the wink of a strange maroon eye ruptured something within me.

I wouldn't say that I regretted leaving for war. I could never say that, and it's not like I didn't know the likely outcome of doing so. Major Randall had well prepared us for the outcome we should expect in his many rants and lectures. You were certainly a damn naïve fool if you expected to leave the war unscathed, both physically and mentally.

I was a coward. I knew damn well that I was. I didn't need anyone to tell me. I already knew. But Sebastian seemed so oddly at home surrounded by the war, like he had prepared for it for years. However, just from the look in his eyes at that moment, I knew it would be okay. That no matter what path this war leads us on, either to life or death, it would be okay, because we were in this together.

At that moment, I was thankful it was raining so he wouldn't realise that the droplets gliding down my cheeks were in fact my tears.

Then he was gone.

It rained all the next day.

We were joined in London by another two hundred men and a couple of subalterns from the third battalion. They weren't exactly fit for war. _Poor Randall_, I thought, _how sad for you that we constitute no grave danger to the Hun_.

Marching through London, grey crowds lined the equally grey streets. A few women called "God bless you", not that it would help. We were completely soaked to the skin by the time we reached the ship that would take us to our final destination. She backed, as she had done when I travelled with my mother, out of the Port of Dover and then turned her stern towards the war.

Even with the grey clouds and the rain, the bay was beautiful. Pale glittering lights shone off the water, like jewels. The gulls mewed above us and the lighthouse flashed in warning and salutation.

How many miles to…?

Some of the men continued to wave until the harbour was no longer in sight. It was their last image of home.

The first casualty aboard the ship was some poor fool who cut his wrists before we even landed at Le Havre. I had been called upon to inspect the damage caused to his wrists, even though I was no medic. Randall had only given the young soldier an annoyed huff before he shouted for me.

"Phantomhive!" he called gruffly, "Where is that God forsaken man?! Phantomhive, get over here at once!"

I hastily stumbled passed a few onlookers and saw the poor bastard slumped on the floor in agony.

Major Randall grabbed my shoulder and pulled me forward quickly, "Check this idiots wounds. Christ, I've been given cowards, not soldiers." he complained as he pushed passed the onlookers to go about his business.

"But sir!" I called over the crowd. He didn't look back. I mumbled a curse as I knelt by the young man on the ground. I turned to glare at the others surrounding us, "Back off, all of you. I need some room."

As an officer, they carried out my orders and backed out of the room. But some glanced in through the doorway in order to quench their curiosity.

"Well aren't you a fool." I muttered darkly to the young soldier. I gently picked up both of his hands so that his palms were facing upwards. Blood coated his pale skin as it pulsed from his wrists. The cuts were deep, very deep. It wasn't hard to conclude that he had severed a vein. I wasn't too well-versed on the human body, but I wasn't simple, "You bloody idiot."

The man beneath me was whimpering in pain and unable to talk. That's when I caught sight of the razor covered in blood on the floor by his thigh. I realised that he must have been truly petrified if he went to such lengths to end his existence in this Hell we were all enduring.

I called out for cloths of some sort. One of the men peering in from the doorway produced greying pieces of material. I didn't care that were dirty. If they slowed down the blood loss then it didn't matter.

I held the materials in place in an effort to slow the blood loss, but I was quickly pushed out of the way when another young soldier, by the name Ryan Stoker, took my place in front of the first casualty, declaring that he was a medic and knew what to do. Major Randall must have found him.

Other than all that, the journey was rather uneventful. I didn't even see Sebastian once due to the large difference in our ranking.

Each man was given a copy of the following directive and told to keep it in his Pay Book and obviously read it in moments of temptation.

'You are ordered abroad as soldiers of the King to help our French comrades against the invasion of a common enemy. You have to perform a task which will need your courage, your energy and your patience. Remember, the honour of the British Army depends on your individual conduct. It will be your duty not only to set an example of discipline and perfect steadiness under fire but also to maintain the friendliest of relations with those you are helping in this struggle. In this experience you may find temptation in both wine and women. You must entirely resist both temptations, and, while treating all women with perfect courtesy, you should avoid any intimacy. Do your duty bravely. Fear God. Honour the King.'

_Poor Sebastian_, I thought sarcastically, _my heart bleeds for you_.

We landed at Le Havre where, due to intense confusion about transport, we had to camp for several days. The men constantly complained and the major created more rules for us all to follow. We were ordered not to eat pork when we got up near the front, as the pigs that remained alive, which were not many, fed and grew temptingly fat on human flesh. English, French, German. The pigs didn't care. All races were the same to them.

The countryside was absolutely miserable. We were all permanently wet. Eventually, after a long wait, we were all packed inside a train and then unpacked at Bailleul rather late in the evening. It was still raining when we got there. We had to march the last ten miles to West Outre that night along a cobbled road. It was greasy with mud and horse dung. We had to wade our way through mud ankle high and we were constantly spattered with filth due to the passing transport lorries. The centre of the road was considered paradise. The men, of course, complained. Our base was, and has remained to be, a derelict farm. A high metal gate closed it off from the road. There were two barns, one on each side of the yard. One was for the men and the other was a squat stone farmhouse for Major Randall, Aberline, myself, the N. and the orderlies.

I could hear the big guns in the distance. The sound of musketry fire was too close for total comfort. Sometimes, the ground shook under us and the few remaining windows would rattle in their frames.

Aberline, who seemed a nice, overly-trusting young man, had joined us at Bailleul. He mentioned that he was three years older than myself and had come from England. He was certainly an odd man. He had the air of someone who knew the ropes, like he had seen it all before. He took me under his wing, for which I was grateful. He and I shared a small attic, along with some mongrel dog that roamed around, which might I add, added a pungency to the atmosphere which, frankly, neither of us enjoyed. But we neither had the heart to do anything about it. There was a small fireplace in which we lit a fire daily to keep the place warm. The room smoked and it was almost unbearable. But the fire allowed us to keep our clothes relatively dry.

On our fourth morning the sun decided to make an appearance. We both went out to the yard and looked up at it.

"It's definitely real." Aberline commented as he held a hand up to shade his eyes from the sun's glare.

"But there's not much warmth in it." I muttered, feeling a chill go down my spine.

"You can't have everything." Aberline reasoned, "I know where we could get a couple of horses."

I gave him a look, "Don't be a fool, Aberline. Major Randall would never let us go riding."

"Who's going to tell him?"

I thought about it for a moment, "Well, you have a point there."

My thoughts drifted back to Sebastian.

"Can you make that three horses?" I asked.

"Why so?"

"I… I have a friend."

"Alright then. What fun it'll be."

After a wave goodbye from Aberline, I roamed out of the gate and down the road where some of the men were raising mighty earthworks in the interest of discipline, morale and whiling away the time.

The N.C.O in charge looked positively bored as he pushed his spectacles up along the bridge of his nose as he inspected the work being done. Another man, the N.C.O I had seen after my tense talk with Major Randall, stood close to him. _Very _close to him. I'm not going to lie and say he didn't freak me out. The N.C.O in charge didn't look pleased either.

"Thanks to you," he droned towards his red-haired companion, "I've been landed with more overtime."

"Could I have Private Michaelis for an hour or so?" I asked, interrupting them.

The red-haired male whirled around, looking about ready to spew nonsense at me.

"Private Michaelis?" the N.C.O in charge repeated.

I nodded in response.

"Oh. Yes." he muttered, as if he harboured a great dislike for the man.

I knew that he would never have spoken like that to the Major or even Aberline. Even though all knew my rank in the army and indeed my nobility, it still didn't help earn the proper respect that one in my position demanded.

He turned to the men at work. The other bespectacled man threw me a look that I chose to ignore. My eyes wandered over to the men, ever searching for that mop of black hair.

"Michaelis, you good for nothing, get your backside out of there at once. Mr. Phantomhive wants you."

"I'm sure he does."

I tried not to roll my eyes as Sebastian appeared out of the man-made hole in the ground. Finding his feet, he saluted with a smirk. I turned my back on him quickly and walked away as fast as my legs would carry me. I could hear the mud squish under his feet as he ran to catch up with me.

"I have some horses." I told him as soon as we were out of earshot of others.

"Really?" he asked. I'm positive I heard the smirk he was wearing as his words rolled off his tongue like velvet.

"Yes."

We walked past the gates, away from the possible spying eye of Major Randall or the C.S.M who had no respect for junior officers.

"Real horses now, Ciel?" he teased.

"Yes. Real horses. Idiot."

"How did you manage to accomplish that?"

"I have friends in the right places." I replied back.

His jaw clenched and unclenched.

"What's wrong?" I asked, wearing a rather pleased smirk of my own.

"Nothing." he muttered.

A possibly jealous Sebastian?

That thought alone makes me laugh.

It still does.

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**Not one of my longest chapters but I hope you enjoyed it all the same! I would really appreciate it if you reviewed to let me know what you think. Reviews are necessary to the survival of this story. Maybe we could hit 50 reviews? As always, I'm always happy that you stopped by to read this weirdness. Thank you! xD**


	14. Good Sportsmanship?

**Hey everyone. How are you all doing? Good? Good! Because I have another chapter for you lovely little squidlings! I'm sorry about the really long delay in updating. I have my reasons though… But it's about time that I updated this baby!**

**I quickly want to thank JezebelStrike for getting my head into gear. It was the kick in the ass that I needed so I really appreciate it.**

**Who's up for some Fred Aberline? I love him. He's the complete opposite of Sebastian. They both care for Ciel, but for completely different reasons. Aberline is the light while Sebastian is the dark. It's beautiful. Aberline wishes for a world where Ciel can be the child he's supposed to be, while Sebastian cares nothing more than cultivating his soul by any means necessary.**

**But I want you guys to read this… slowly... hnng... t-that's right… rgh, fuck. Just like that.**

* * *

**How Many Miles to Babylon?**

**Kuroshitsuji / How Many Miles to Babylon?**

******Chapter XIV**: Good Sportsmanship?

**xMiss Shizaya Michaelisx**

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"I suppose," I began, suddenly feeling the bitter chill of the growing wind as I sat frozen atop the blue roan horse Fred, or rather, Aberline, had brought for me. Sebastian rode close by on his dark bay, slightly crazy, stallion and squeezed my coated shoulder when he saw my frame trembling with the cold, "that I would much rather watch the war than be in it."

"So you would rather be home?" Aberline inquired as he lightly tapped his heels against his horse's underbelly. This caused the horse to surge forward a little.

"I wouldn't say that." I replied, shaking my head as I glanced up along the path in front of us.

"Why so?"

The aggravated expression upon Sebastian's tired face caught my eyes. He almost looked pained at having to be in Aberline's presence. He rolled his burgundy eyes and gnashed his teeth in irritation. He was lucky that he was shielded by myself so the other man couldn't see him. It was quite clear that he didn't have the same view that I had for the other slightly care-free officer. I made a mental note to pull him up on it later.

"I think there's something rather splendid about it all." came Fred's reply to his own question. His voice seemed to slice through the frosty air as he looked over at me, "There's always a chance that one might become a hero. Does… does that not stir your blood?" he queried excitedly. It surprised me a little to see how his eyes lit up at the prospect that one might actually survive this Godforsaken war.

"I can't say it does." I retorted, "But I know one thing, I'm bloody freezing." I grumbled as I tried to shuffle my disastrous coat closer to my body than possible.

Aberline's laughter rattled through the frigid air, "And I thought all English people were romantic." he chuckled.

"There's nothing remotely romantic about it." Sebastian replied tediously, speaking for the first time since his introduction to my fellow officer. His icy response seemed to chill the air even more and I shivered violently.

"Pity." Fred commented before turning his attention to my shivering frame, "Ciel, do you want my coat? I don't mind." he smiled genuinely as he began to unbutton down his front.

Sebastian cleared his throat, like a warning bell.

I smiled back at man to my left and shook my head, "That's quite alright, Aberline. Thank you for the offer though."

I threw an irritated look to my right, hoping that Sebastian saw it.

"You know," said Aberline, "my life has been a little dull up until now. It has just consisted of patterns. Everywhere you look. Patterns. This is the best thing that has ever happened to me, besides my wife. I'll either become a hero or I'll die."

"Death is more permanent." I suggested, "But how has your life been dull, you know, since you're married and all that?"

"I worked for Scotland Yard. I have to say, it wasn't at all exciting. I think fighting in the war will help secure freedom for the next generation. Fighting in this war seems more effective."

"Hm."

"You're quite the cynic, Ciel." he laughed, "Besides, at least death is a mystery."

"So is tomorrow." Sebastian added before he cantered ahead of us looking mightily unimpressed.

"So," Aberline spoke lowly as he neared his horse to mine, "Friends?"

I squinted over at the ruddy haired male, inwardly cursing the sun, "Excuse me?"

"You two are friends?" he repeated, looking a little embarrassed with himself.

"Yes… Friends." I answered, offering him a warm smile.

Ever since he leant down and held out his hand to Sebastian upon meeting, he instantly had my respect.

"How so?"

How so?

I allowed for a bitter, slightly nervous laugh, "It's my job to sound like a snob, not you."

"Phantomhive…" he said slowly, allowing my name to roll off his tongue as he thought for a moment, "Let me guess. You're the heir to that toy company. Funtom Company… Phantom Company."

I fought the urge to laugh as he compared the two strange names.

"It's not just toys, but confectionaries too. Am I right?" he asked.

"You're right."

"But that's not all, is it?"

I felt my stomach twist uncomfortably as I began to wonder just how much Aberline knew about my family. My racing thoughts were interrupted by a truly pissed-off looking Sebastian who shouted back to us.

"Are you two just going to sit around and chat all day long or are you actually going to get a move on?!"

Aberline smiled sheepishly and scratched at a sudden itch on the back of his neck while I fixed the black haired male with a warning glare of my own.

"Tell me, Sebastian, why did you join?" Fred asked as we caught up with our impatient companion.

"Cash."

I hated that word.

"_Just_ for the money?"

Sebastian nodded once and jerked his head towards me, "And he joined because his mum wanted to get rid of him. Now you know it all."

I felt myself blushing, from embarrassment or anger, I didn't know.

My poor fellow officer looked startled.

I began to laugh, hoping that it sounded as carefree as I wanted it to.

"Are you… eh… pulling my leg?" Aberline asked nervously.

"Not at all. Ask him yourself." Sebastian replied and smiled as his burgundy eyes met mine, "Well, seeing as you two are such good friends, it's only natural you should know."

I swallowed as Fred looked at me.

"Is it true?" he asked.

"There is a strong element…" I began, "though mind you," I said, looking Sebastian straight in the eye, "I don't think I would have mentioned it myself. Sebastian is quite the contortionist." I finished, sending him my iciest smile.

He had the nerve to look pleased.

Aberline didn't seem to know where to look, "My… my mother cried. It wasn't unexpected, but…"

"Mine played Chopin triumphantly on the piano the moment I left the room." I invented. It was probably true anyway, "Grand Valse Brillante."

"How eh… how very remarkable." The ruddy haired man countered.

"Exactly." I smiled.

"My mother didn't seemed too fazed," Sebastian added, "seeing as my bastard of a father went before me."

There was silence as the horses slowly sauntered their way along the trodden path through a field. The path to where, I didn't know.

"I know what we could do." Aberline exclaimed suddenly, possibly out of desperation to lift the sudden tension in the air, "First one to that battered giant oak tree wins… eh… actually, let's just do it for fun's sake."

"I'm in." I said without hesitancy. I never backed down to a challenge. I glanced over to my companion, hoping to whatever God existed that he would just drop his sour attitude.

He met my demanding stare before sighing in defeat, "Fine. You're on Aberline. But," he spoke, "you are not to join in, Ciel." he warned, pointing a finger at me.

I shot him an incredulous glare, "What?! Why not?" I demanded.

"You and I both know that you can't handle a horse very well. You'll be off like a shot and they'll be no stopping you."

I breathed out heavily through my nose, creating a white hazy mist, before hanging my head in defeat. Sebastian was right. I'd never be able to control a horse while it galloped. I'd be killed by a bloody horse, not the war.

"The winner," Sebastian continued, "can give Ciel his coat. Does that sound agreeable?"

The urge to laugh was too hard to resist.

What was he playing at?

"Aberline, what do you say?" he almost goaded. The edges of his lips curled upwards into a taunting smirk.

"Alright then."

The two seemed to be conversing in silence as I glanced from one to the other.

It was ridiculous, but I couldn't help but feel excited to see who would win. Sebastian Michaelis excelled at horsemanship, but maybe Fred Aberline could conquer over him?

The two of them line up side by side and on my mark, they were off, like birds lifting from a summer hillside. It was an incredible sight. The competitive glares shot from one to the other didn't go unnoticed.

Sebastian, of course, reached the goal before Aberline. I cantered easily behind them and saw the steam rise of the horses backs as I neared. My heart was hammering in my chest when I saw the triumphant grin grace Sebastian's lips. Fred shook his hand. A symbol of good sportsmanship. I'm just glad he wasn't a sore loser.

Sebastian winked at me and patted his thigh, signalling me to ride closer to him. I did my best not to roll my eyes. I sidled my horse beside his, lucky that our faces were now out of Aberline's view.

Ever so slowly, Sebastian began easing the buttons out of the holes. His coat was maybe two sizes bigger than my own. It would fit easily over my own coat.

He was truly enjoying himself, well, if that smirk was anything to go by. The coat slipped off his lean frame and he beckoned me closer as he held it out, ready for me to put my arms through the sleeves.

Aberline fidgeted in his saddle as he watched the transaction. He seemed a little put-out that he didn't win. I thought it best not to figure out why.

The man beside me buttoned me up and fixed the collar, all while grinning foolishly. I knew I'd have to thank him properly later.

"Well, wasn't that fun?" Aberline laughed suddenly, taking out a handkerchief from his pocket and wiping at the sweat forming on his brow.

"Indeed it was."

I would never have been able to tear my gaze from those eyes if it wasn't for my fellow officer slapping me on the back with a laugh.

I decided to break my silence, "You both did well... considering. At least you get to stay warm, Aberline." I smiled.

"You know, I think I'll live in the country when this show is over." the man proclaimed.

We walked the horses soberly back over the field. The skin on my horse's neck trembled too, possibly due to a fly of some sort.

"You would rather live in the country than in London? There's absolutely nothing at all exciting about the country. London would be more suited to you, don't you think?" I offered.

"After this war, I will have had enough excitement." Aberline replied tiredly.

"If you survive it."

Why did he _always_ have to add something so melancholic to the conversation in order to ruin the mood?

"For God's sake, Sebastian." I mumbled under my breath.

He smiled warmly and winked, causing my cheeks to almost glow with a dusting of pink.

Maybe I shouldn't have worn the extra coat after all...

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**Was it good? Was it bad? Hopefully it was good!**

**Again, I'm sorry for the long delay in updating. I'm going through a pretty bad time at the moment. So... make my day with a review? I really appreciate you stopping by to read this story. Thanks guys xD**


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